I bargained my life with Karma
only once, and she said
in order to reach my blessings
you'll have to live dead.
Pondered I weakly for such a price,
I might as well roll my dice.
She told me my most beautiful dreams
are only in her beautiful scene.
Again, I complied with hate,
and fed myself sin.
And for a long time I lived a life
where I couldn't win.
Awkwardly silent, I continued
to stay in this type
of venue. Magisterially without,
I continued to pout.
I came back to Karma,
and realised unto her,
that anything wonderful
is worth striving for.
Except I no longer needed her plagiarism
of a empty ploy and bargain;
I calmly stated to end this barter;
I am no longer a living martyr.
Bondage and chains were all my prizes
of my daily sins and constant demises.
I reasoned to myself that I was the soil,
And I can make anything through faithful toil.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem