I felt like pumping him with lead
For all he said
He should have been dead
For all I cared.
It did not seen right
That he should fight
For what was not his right
It was like flying a kite.
Today and tomorrow
He goes to borrow
Turn the mind to sorrow
Like a dent arrow.
Alas for the end
That prosperity would lend
To the bitterest end
No one would tend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem