We've been scolded, scorned, warned,
Yet, still, we write on.
We've been beaten, whipped, tortured,
Yet, still, we write on.
We've been rounded up, jailed, exiled,
Yet, still, we write on.
'Why continue? ' We're often asked.
'Why punish yourself with the pen? '
'You know you'll be scolded or beaten or jailed,
'So why press on and face the consequences? '
The answer lies not in the words we write,
But in the life they give us.
Who doesn't want immortality?
Greater men have died for it.
Those who write the truth, no matter the cost,
Will live in his words until the world ends.
So, for as long as there are the pen and paper,
We will always write on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think this poem is beautifully written. I look forward to reading more.