If thou seeketh perfection in life's great stage,
Then contentment, like a distant star, doth age.
For all the world, with all its wondrous ways,
Is but a fleeting spectacle, a passing phase.
To strive for perfection doth oft leave empty hearts,
For in this mortal realm, we all play our parts.
And though we seek to transcend with all our might,
Perfection, like the morning mist, doth vanish from sight.
So long as we seek to be what we're not,
Our soul's true purpose shall be forgot.
For contentment lies not in what we achieve,
But in the lessons that life doth conceive.
So let us shun the illusion of perfection,
And seek instead to find greater reflection.
For in the journey, not just the destination,
We find contentment, peace, and true elation.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem