We all
were born with
three hundred talents
three hundred gifts
three hundred strengths
but only
ninety nine weaknesses
99 weaknesses? I wonder what it could be. As for talents and gifts, we don't use it all... A great profound poem!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It sounds like Vedic wisdom. A child is born pure and chaste. 'Created in His own image', we are perfect in our essence. But the Evil can make us so weak… 'The Earth is the battlefield'.