Ought to grab life by the scruff of its neck
Shaking my mind from the reverie I ride
If only she could plant on my cheek a peck
To restore a modicum of my plummeted pride.
I pick myself up and hit the road
Daring fate and its pate to stop my move
I look straight ahead and goad the toad
In front of me to interfere with my groove.
The toad hops away
Jinxing, I flex my muscle
Cutting the distance I sway
Luck to swing in favour of the hustle
I carve out of the toad's diffidence
Surging forward with aplomb and purpose
As I carve a craving in confidence
Daring the toad to nail my fate on the cross.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem