What is the mere fact of life
Compared with its heroics?
Breath, for its own sake, against
Panting of its fanatics?
Keep to the valleys, who would
Their animal natures pet!
Man as crown of creation
For soul's dignity has met
With what pitfalls in its climb!
With what coldness and crevasse!
Who would, as swine, be pampered
Know only of a morass!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem