Never do people give a problem
To the leader of happiest results;
The signs of the day are upon him,
To create the stupendous change.
May problems be damned, cursed,
Jutting out is an island of sentence;
For written it is on the map
By the happier lord.
Never could we swear to lords
For more of direction and swing;
This day is like the night of mourning,
Too many days are there to fight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem