Life is not all that easy
for all who are threaten’d with wants,
but easy for some who, at least, born with silv’r spoon.
Life seems to lock out those
who are sudd’n slush at the backyard.
Many rush into the gold’n hous,
thinking that they are all in all:
some for their wealth; some, brilliant brain.
But few who are more competent
are outside striving to ent’r:
they struggle and struggle
till their smooth skin torn,
yet they remain in the backyard, awaiting for their turn
which they must get now or later in the future
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem