King’asti
Platinum Member
- Nov 26, 2009
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Last week Companero alilalama kujisikia mnyonge katika kila nyanja. Naomba kui-dedicate poem hii ya Invictus kwake, na kwa yeyote yule anayejisikia mnyonge(pamoja nami) weekend hii .
Background: This poem was originally written by Henley, a victim to Tuberculosis of the bones at age 12. Despite amputation of his leg below the knee, led an active life until his death at the age of 53 but also passed Oxford local exam.
Nelson Mandela, while in prison read this poem everyday from his cell (he was denied socialisation and visitation for most of his jail time.) May this poem keep you going everytime you feel like giving up on yourself, coz that is the last thing you can do before you die.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Background: This poem was originally written by Henley, a victim to Tuberculosis of the bones at age 12. Despite amputation of his leg below the knee, led an active life until his death at the age of 53 but also passed Oxford local exam.
Nelson Mandela, while in prison read this poem everyday from his cell (he was denied socialisation and visitation for most of his jail time.) May this poem keep you going everytime you feel like giving up on yourself, coz that is the last thing you can do before you die.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.