My people that fallow me I could not be bothered to care if they die.
My servants are payed megerly, my money is to precious to give willingly.
I do not give to the poor they can all die I can get more.
You may think terrible of me, why else am I called the terror king, I enjoy watching people in agony.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem