From childhood, you stand a siege
Hovering through my impulse, yet blooming
In the thick of your hate; the festive plague
Increases your fervor; your forces consuming;
Still I rise
Still I rise
And I will fear not your woes.
Clouded by mock, you could not perceive
As others have; and you would not cheer
My goblet in the feat, as would believe
Not; you scared out of me - the fear
Of flying higher
Of flying higher
And I will scare away all your woes.
How much pleasure you gain in my pain?
When you knock my star, my moon beams;
You kid my rhymes, my passion still sane;
My pen will bleed as my candle gleams:
My victory hymn
My victory hymn
And I will script down all your woes.
How can I, in lone bounty, stop being afraid?
Not of you, but how much disappointed
You will be, when I rode in my parade
You shall groan alone, and be dented;
Be still my riches
Be still my riches
As I bid farewell all my woes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A peculiar situations of life and it is beautifully told in the poem.