IN THE MIND
Pen each day a verse of worth
And dally not in virtue's dearth;
Entertain in your skull a noble thought,
For there all fierce battles are fought
And won or lost before they reach
The battle ground in which
The state of mind is just confirmed:
Winners scoop the crown while losers are deadly damned.
Those who nurse thoughts of defeat
Proceed to the battleground to be met by it;
Victors win first the battle in mind
And proceed to the battleground to triumph find.
Son, the choices stare stark before your nose,
Choose to labour day and night, or in bliss repose!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem