Towards a Better Tomorrow
The path in the making
Salutations to every unseen battle.
I ain't a poet,
Not even a prophet,
But a painting
That remained veiled.
A storm that will strike unforeseen,
A volcano with a heart of a breezy spring,
A hunter with the heart of a king,
A mountain that bowed to the ordinary.
A rise that has seen its share of falls,
A prize with a price in store,
Stabs before you reach the finish.
Oh, my nice lad,
Feel free to witness the cruel world—
For it hardens the core,
Teaches you to enjoy the sunrise,
Tells you to witness the paradox,
And appreciate its handcrafted contrasts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem