Destination riddled with mountains,
what lies on the other side I know not.
Climb and tread over its range I must,
for glory or defeat my fate, my luck.
Death smiles on this life,
waiting for the word.
With savory anticipation it’ll pounce
on the unsuspecting -
by now dreary, beaten soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem