In times of economic depression
politicians take to the hustings
bellowing out promises
that entice and evaporate
upon election to office
they never do save us
from the wolves that roam
fleecing the sheep
yet we chombalones buy into
their sophistry every time
We knew nothing about all that
we were kids then and we climbed
with wild abandon dog-leg staircases
hanging suspended in mid-air
to leap from crossbeam
to crossbeam defying gravity
in the shell of the empty building
on Morgan Street
Blue sky visible overhead
against unfinished transoms
of an invisible rooftop
three storys up
window casements open
to random winds that blow
dust and old wood shavings
on our heads
Like that empty building
deserted and abandoned
we too were remnants
of a great depression
that had ravaged the land
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem