The bayonet at my back was not Time's,
But just a fear of its hostility.
My genes met stony ground
In a hybrid culture.
The age was like a flag
Tattered by cross winds.
I grasped too much,
Clung to what came easy,
Left what might have been hard.
Sometimes I failed.
Not all has been in vain.
I learnt a thing or two;
I have scars, now healed.
- - - - -
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Clung to what came easy, Left what might have been hard. This is what most of us do... We like to travel through the easy path, if possible take short cuts and avoid the rugged and round about route! Life is a battle ground.... none can escape it unscathed, but to be healed finally is a great thing! Interesting self appraisal!