Struggle is our twin
who treads with us,
our left hand
that breaks the cobwebs -
a hint that no one
has passed this narrow,
virgin path before us.
We have to offend
even the least of
creations that witnessed
our birth -
our ingratitude -
just to conquer
the peak of
the mountain of life.
Whilst we see
the signs of doom there,
we must pray
that He clothe them
with our skins,
so we alone can feel
the burning mulct
of our sins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem