Looking back,
confidence I lack.
The ways I passed,
to infinity it stretched.
looking on scale,
turn I pail.
scaling the covered ways,
arises the hues and cries.
looking forward,
turn I coward.
next to me the end of way,
yes, the grave of clay.
looking calm,
where I am.
it urges me to amass,
virtues in mass..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem