Every day, the striving, driving
Minutes pass, I yearn, I churn for
Life to change, to feel alive and
Not to be held fast, I spurn this
Others find content in penance
Work they hate, and crave the lazy,
Sloth resides within, I dread him
My eternal foe, that knave.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem