Take a turn to visit
The Christmas crib
In the odd scenes of our cities
Where the poor born King
Finds again his inn
Go beam the Christmas light
In the filthy flirting zones
That ooze offensive sight
With nannies and babes
Dressed in the gale of zombies
That world darkened by wants
And greyed by runaway opportunities
Ever growing distant
Yarns for Christmas goodies
Be on the heels
Make hast to the steeps
Where green has gone grey
Tortured by hunger rays
There you will find
The little baby
Dressed in golden smiles
So rare in our gold mine
Don't look too far
The crib is in your yard
In the hoary, wiry, tatty and tubby
That mix in the midst of our cities' beauty
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem