But who will bell the Cat, a nasty Cat;
Who's blind to reason, logic and fairness?
Who devours mice but will not touch the rat;
And blames others for his own carelessness.
And who can waste his lungs on ears so deaf?
That cannot hear throughout the hearing range?
For doing nothing, he is Master-Chef;
The food he serves is tasteless, bland and strange!
Yet, world praises such people to the skies;
Who spend their hours in office lazily;
Such men manage to maintain their white lies,
Doing nothing, retiring happily.
Accursed then be such Bureaucrats,0 God;
Inhuman men, who're fit to be mere clod.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem