They carry their crosses differently.
Cheerfully slung onto the back,
Some manage to drag them,
Someone will abandon them altogether.

The born are given rights,
So they may fulfill missions,
In the duties — a cross
And a certain dose of strength.

Having lifted it to the sky by the sides
And set it against all the winds,
There is no more need to carry the cross —
It will carry. Like a hang glider.