Sheltered and narrowed perceptions accept,
Success and achievement one expects to get...
Is a doting done by someone who comes,
To flatter them with comments done...
With an increasing of an ego that feeds,
On a feasting releasing adored and idol praise.
'Of course,
All of this is nonsense! '
Retorts the one who player hates.
And continuing to say with hints of jealousy...
'None of that which I do,
Can take place without strict discipline.
Or without focused determination too.
Since little time is given to reflect,
On the wearing of titles to puff up one's chest.'
~These medals I wear are heavy around my neck.
Would you mind carrying a few of them,
To enable me to stand up straight and correct? ~
'What do I look like to you?
A coat rack? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem