We came, here on the earth, and,
Are surrounded with, manifold moves;
With them to fight, we boldly stand,
Very few we get, and a lot we lose;
Nevertheless, hold firm, till the End,
Not are we to flee, but to stand.
Here is a light, but only, for a short span,
Remaining in nothing, in dense of dark;
The goal increases, as much we ran,
Time strikes us, strong and stark;
But man means, not to yield,
Better are hours, in fighting the field.
Life sometimes, on occasions, seems fun,
When the race, given to us, not fully run;
Though many flowed, in Time’s sway,
Still are remembered, who firmly did stay;
The man of will, by Time are flowered,
Who traveled forward, not backward.