It's usual when one moves a stone,
There's things there that one finds;
Someone tries selling a car,
To rear-end us and our hind.
Amazing all the deals one's offered-
Insurance to seal us in our coffins;
Stocks to secure our future,
Anything to get our lucre.
The stone can be a pebble,
Inocuous at first glance;
But move it and one finds oneself
Involved in false romance.
Roll a boulder,
Lift a rock, of any make or shine;
Well find someone's beneath our heels-
The blind leading the blind.
The creepy, crawly bottom-feeders,
Are waiting for our kind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem