There´s a thing over
there, I see it through
the haze of the air
Past the trees and
under the sand,
it has a the face
of a prosperous man
He holds up his hands,
as to cover his face
but from where we go,
I can only guess
what´s below his waist
These times don´t call
for a moment of haste
There´s more poor than rich
and we all want our taste
I think and debate,
then succumb to what
be my fate, the
road some fear to take
and steal what I feel
is everymans´right, to
want and to feel
The forlorn zest, of a life
soon to be put to rest
Decisions be mine, I´ll deal
with it in time, I know
in my heart, I´ve done my small part
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem