When I was seventeen...it was a terrible year,
I quit high school and struck off on my own;
I bummed around, looking for work and such,
I did a lot of complaining, like bitch and moan.
I thought the world owned me a living,
But soon found out that was my first mistake;
I discovered that there were ones called givers,
When I all I ever wanted, I thought I could just take.
The givers and the takers, two different classes,
The ones who show their love and their compassion;
And the ones that beg, and borrow and steal,
I wasn't sure, where I fit in, in any fashion.
But time was kind to me and it was fruitful,
And some lessons that I learned were hard to bear;
But I found out quick that greed was not my partner,
That what I had, I could cultivate and share.
And so I share with you my never ending joy,
My written words to tell you of my present state;
They are full of sorrow, happiness and wonder,
All the convoluted paths of what I now call fate.
Drink it in, all the trials and troubles,
Swallow deep, the love that comes your way;
Hold onto fortune as it claims you,
May the sun that shines, be yours today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A solid piece with good advice