All their lives they sit back to criticize others.
Only to discover they have chosen lives,
To produce nothing to identify they had arrived...
Whether to criticize or not.
The importance of it goes ignored.
As those they found worthy of critique,
Often found themselves with little time to speak...
Between deeds and opportunities.
To leave those with time to find their tomorrows,
Chased by limitation and jealousies welcomed.
With an abundance of laziness...
And no motivation.
None to inspire...
What having a dream means.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem