Ye unravel man as only you can,
And force him to reflect, give him deep tan,
Shape and sharpen and build from boy a man,
Ye even out, trim rough verges of edge
Awhile he adds up wise years to his age,
And etch wrinkles of wisdom on visage,
Much like spirals of age on a tree trunk—
Ye ensure, lessons of lifetime have sunk,
That he walks not a hollow chunk of hunk.
Remember, never a man is
Mute creature of circumstances,
He's made when bends not on his knees.
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Musings | 05.02.07 |
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem