the wicked often win
and the noblest of us fail
their destiny to be ever frustrated
never to know comfort
they slog up a hill
to a top they'll never reach
they'll endure mockery and scorn
but they'll go on
often not to know the reason why
they only know that they struggle
and will never be rewarded
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem