Young ideologists play with their yellow umbrella at the main road, with fantasy to play the role of Messiah.
Ordinary people are forced to pay the unaffordable price, to which they need to give up their livelihood.
Foreign speculators enjoy a big feast by preying on the Market, they prey through short selling the Hang Sang Index Future.
Local aristocrats couldn't do a damn thing apart from praying to the big boss at north, they pray for the green light to a definitive settlement of the incidents.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem