After one has become accustomed,
To experience repeated attempts to reach peaks...
From cloud covered and mist strewn valleys,
Of course there is going to be some bragging...
When that brightness of a peak is reached.
Regardless of one's scars and bruised knees.
Or the pettiness of distant voices heard.
One's repeated attempts to reach peaks,
Develops a capability...
To even ignore pain.
That is what a kept faith does!
Especially if one is devoted and focused,
To accomplish heights,
That appear to beckon those who dare.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem