Don’t do it if you cannot take the strain.
The competition hopes that you will fail.
It’s opting out that’s blasphemous, profane.
No matter how consistently you train
– and mountains all exist for us to scale –
don’t do it if you cannot take the strain.
A single victory could begin your reign
and move you up with all the very great.
It’s opting out that’s blasphemous, profane.
Although aware of heights you can attain,
with visions of the triumphs at your gate,
don’t do it if you cannot take the strain.
You know the way things are, so don’t complain.
All struggle, it is said, will liberate.
It’s opting out that’s blasphemous, profane.
No lesson we are given is as plain
as that involving goals we celebrate:
Don’t do it if you cannot take the strain!
It’s opting out that’s blasphemous, profane!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem