The capitalists gave a mouth to the earth,
To get the black gold out,
Something for the coal miners to cheer about,
Ready the manual workers are to drag coal from dirt.
The miners find both heaven and hell within,
Sustain the toils holding the souls in hands,
Some lose sanity, some bid goodbye to the loved organs,
Some like D.H. Lawrence's father dive into sin.
Yet life like the invincible time goes on,
Yet the children dream of a future better,
But the bitter world loves to conspire,
Against those who barely anything own.
Frustration keeps mocking,
At the labourers as if a burden to carry forever,
Or a virus spreading from one heart to another,
Keeps the handful of peace perishing.
The money mongers don't perceive the sweats and blood,
They like Iago are ruthless creatures,
Only discern the language of the spiralling numbers,
And the miners watch the charitable sky searching for God!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem