I aimed for some things, but
that’s not what I got;
I aimed for a better slot,
But I couldn’t get what I ought.
When things fail, we blame our lot;
Success in life is a war well-fought;
Our focus must be on the dot;
At times, reputations can be bought.
Despite life’s clime, rainy or hot,
We must do our duty, not rot;
Things happen our ways somewhat,
Or in strife and travail, we are caught!
Yet, never blame yourself for what you’re not,
Nor sleep all life in a luxurious cot!
Because you are the Maker’s beloved, a pot,
You must end up as a zealot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem