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
Awesome