I love so much my solitude,
I love the elevated attitude,
Of men who do it or die,
As opposed to those that sigh or cry.
I'll be among those that the arcs of history bend,
When my high pilgrimage hits its end.
I rise to be counted among victors who stand out,
Those that are brave and devout.
What I stand for I thoroughly defend,
And what I oppose I madly attack,
For I hate being among the inbetweeners,
For I hope to be a man of outstanding tack.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem