Sick I am of countless failures,
And sick of gloomy prefigures.
Sick I am of new habits,
And sick of dishonored oaths.
Sick I am of my kingly desires,
And sick of being deprived sire.
Sick I am of my unconquered heart,
And Sick of loneliness tearing me apart.
Sick I am of clapping for other’s sake,
And Sick of compromises that I make.
But, I am not sick of life,
For the narrow beam amidst this strife.
This beam is my path to redeem,
Of Success that dumped me midstream.
For the Edison’s beam this is,
A thousand attempts will only please.
Attempts I will not make to fail,
But to treat my heart that ails.
Fail and fail better if I can,
Victorious will I be in short span.
An arduous way will I take,
Well beyond my ankles ache.
Follow the beam, would be my adage,
For my kinsmen burdened of life’s baggage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem