The Old Soldier Poem by Csongi Wasas

Sitting on the bench the old soldier sighs
Thinking about the good old times, he pines
From his toothless mouth the empty pipe dangles
Praying for some miracle from the heavenly angels

Cursing the world the one forgotten his plight
He doesn’t have any energy or the will to fight
Reminisce of the days when his pipe had smoke
His belly was full and the man had hope

The future looked bright and was full of promise
He didn’t had to worry about tomorrow’s porridge
The ladder was full and the sugarcane grew high
There was work and had tobacco for his pipe

Then one day the so called democracy arrived
The politicians turned everything upside around
Filling their pockets with the people’s money
They created no work or left any bread or honey

They didn’t care about the man on the street
There is just no end to their enormous greed
As long as their bank account is in the credit
And their villas are built and without debit

They have no qualms about embezzling or stealing
The poverty they cause leaves them with no feeling
More and more wealth they need to accumulate
On the expense of the poor man on the street

The old geezer’s eyes are clouded with tear
When he sees the poverty and the despair
Is this what we fought for, had our blood shed
So that a few fat politician could get fed

He whish he was younger so he could fight
To regain his dignity and to end his plight
He would take up arms like he did against them
For nothing changed everything is as it was then

Oh how he whish back the good old day
When there was no democracy but had pay
He couldn’t care less about the right to vote
As long as there is enough tobacco to smoke

Sitting alone on the bench the old soldier sighs
‘When will this decadence end’, out he cries
From his lifeless mouth the empty pipe fall
At last the angels answered his desperate call