You, of course, knew all along
That my timid sayings were just a blind,
My protestations an empty song
Hiding the strength of my mind;
Renewed life bloods intertwining
What had been lost made rife,
A sort of hidden silver lining
Stitched in the frock coat of life;
But this time around worn with experience
Bound with a ravelled thread,
Learned from the hard school of expedience
Like Lazarus risen from the dead;
My humble duty, myself to oust
Where the plough had solemnly grooved,
To fight back again, to rally, to roust
To restore what had been removed;
This filling of the vacuum
This silence turned to sound,
This rushing of the log flume
The second time around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem