A Duty

My way is straight like the path
That neither winds nor sways,
My instincts are still clever,
For my being is called manhood.

My way is not strange,
Ways are only strange
When the dangers are present,
Pain collects from these endeavours.

Suffering is a duty for those who endeavour,
Deeds of exceptional nature spring
From beliefs in the art of living,
Your instincts are clever not shrewd.