Truth is decidedly bitter.
It is not adorned with jewels
Or accompanied by angels.
It doesn't heal our wounds & scars.
Mystical ointment won't stop the pain.
O we must all carry our crosses
On the long, dusty road of life.
We must sacrifice our egos
In order to be born again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem