My sons will inherit earth
Once they've proven their worth
A gift nurtured from birth.
The blood of kings,
both noble and divine,
Destined to soar with gold laden wings
Pressing the boundaries our precious bloodline
But,
Should I remain a page in a book
A face in the crowd overlooked
My name become a rumour
And my alias a symbol,
Society's cancerous tumour.
Then,
My Legacy be my own to keep
To pass on no good fortune on my seed
Lengthen the continuity of my creed
And watch the world strain,
And break under the weight of its own greed,
Then build it up once again.
Because,
From where I stand
Victory is ensured.
Whether clear or obscured,
I control the extent of my hand
I grasped the gift of power,
Along with the curse of responsibility
And tore down the monolith that hover over me.
Ultimately,
My Legacy is eternal
The account of my actions will be known
My will is perpetual.
The words I speak will be heard
My soul is timeless seeking the past,
Living the present,
And constructing the future
And Finally,
All of this achieved thus far, merely juvenile
My power only increases,
Subsequently,
My knowledge is perennial
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem