The defeated may no
have place to claim
as their own.
Ostracised they may
be everywhere.
But exist they too do,
for no apparently
reason but just
for the sake of it.
Victors may trumpet
success as their
second nature.
But then every win
is pyrrhic and no
defeat is ultimate.
Winners do lose
eventually and losers
will see it all levelling out.
Losers are no losers
and winners are no winners.
Whine not losers,
be not loquacious about
victory, you winners.
Win or lose
just two sides of
the same coin
and it all ends up in
balance, the balance
of no return,
the final toss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem