The same weapons have been taught
To me and everybody that learns of war;
The ropes of tragedy are cut to the death,
Forcing climbers to admit defeat.
Jostling around the gym, a fool has deserved
Fame for what he did.
The warlike friend is a man of humans,
The gnomes are not armed, yet are fair.
How did the men of fairness achieve alacrity?
A rope has been mounting on the conscience,
One to climb and attribute to God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem