No money
No honey
Its milk and sugar
When the pocket is heavier
It fire and brimstone
When the account is solid stone
You think I drink
Let dry your oil ink
And watch your beauty queen
Flee in a thousand winds
Dancing for alms
To a willing arms
No money
No honey
I don talk my own
Even the faithful disciple
Departs when its only one apple
And your once loyal entourage
Will lack the needed courage
You then become an army
A one man army
Of the coinless heart
Then! only then
Will you learn the art.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem