One side of this arm wrestle
One side, this tug of war
Only can track, has weak flesh
With soul's peace grappling sore.
The strain, the sweat, throwing off
From pull of temptation
What for remorseful outcomes
Flex their shadows too strong!
In Heaven's name, who clasps as
Victor, Virtue's bouquet
By its inherent nature
Stands up not to display.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem