Life repeats, it staggers ahead
A stuttering, stammering sore,
One thinks his own life is unique-
But that life has happened many times before.
All history books, they point to the distinctions,
So every exploit seems as if it sizzles,
But the fireworks of each life is like the blade of a much used knife
Where all exploits eventually snooze-
and slip into a geriatric fizzle.
However, the one way to make one's name
So that you end as a lion rampant,
Is with gentle kindness treat everyone-
And always convert a "can" from a "can't."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem