When they had found the route
To shake hands with kings
And partaken of crumbs
From the royal banquet
They became bearers of regal errands
Which later were sugar coated lies.
He wanted to be the only cock crowing
But he was not the only cock with a cockscomb
He showed the king his colour
And the king showed him the way out
He cried all day tending to
Tell the public the 'truth'in the palace
Same public that was ignored
When the banquets brimmed with food unend, so he thought!
Now the palace is wihout them
They want to tell us
The colour of the King's ass
Which we all know as well
Tell it to the wind.
For when the stories were sweet
We never heard them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem