Thousand choices before me
Each presenting its possible best
Hoarding its other side for me
Each jostling for my chest.
Each I attempt to take seems
Less better to the rueing rest
Which my doubting mind deems
To be better than the best.
One I'm for my heart to take
Many have scaled through
This and live with what they made,
Then what rib is the true?
I don't want to be another Adam,
Whose rib cost world the great Damn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem