It seems I am often doing things that
I truly rather wouldn't be doing
Locked in perpetual moral combat
With vices brewing, debtors accruing...
Caught plain in the act of seeking conflict,
Even in seemingly jovial jaunts
So knowing that way the tongue can afflict
The haunts of conflict; it's needs and it's wants.
While conflict and character, one and same,
Locked in perpetual moral combat,
Will often place on the other the blame
Of the unknown that each will arrive at.
Without struggle, the character is bland,
And Him, without, there can be no struggle
So must a perceiver be in demand
To witness the daily moral juggle
Doing the things one would rather not do
Is teaching good virtue how to shine through
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem