“A Liar, A Cheat, A Thief” his epitaph will no doubt read.
He made off with many dreams in his convulsions of greed.
Not caring for his victims, he squandered their treasures;
What he made off them never satiated his lust for pleasures.
The sadness of such a sick man’s need to only take and receive…
He made off with their faith; the consummate reason to grieve.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem