You sat down for a ride,
Through stunning valleys, sharp crevasses
In the hectic modulations of turbo forwards,
Shaking in ups and downs,
Sipping pain and pleasure with the same glass.
Effort was a motivating anthem,
A guiding chorus sung almost
Without a break for a steady breath,
Or a moment of full relaxation
Of the agitated soul.
Tension is poison, not fuel
Life is not a battle ground
For those having a thick spine.
Free yourself from the tyranny
Of such a torturing game.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem