Men all shape their life's own way
With the hammers of their pride;
Then seal and put them far away
In a box set far aside.
They hide them like some mortal secret
Their talents unconfessed,
Unused, unknown and so untrue
Just like all the rest.
When will men be men again
Please tell me before I rest;
I've put far 'way my hammer son,
My box-it lies confessed! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem