Victor the Imperial
Rich in material
Thought himself ethereal
In every respect
As he walked the street
He passed the beggars by
Feeling himself elite
Not heeding their cries
Grand was his estate
The grandest there'd been
Hedges and gates
He thought kept out sin
But wherever he was
Sin was exalted
Greed, pride, and lust
All had him faulted
Little did he know
And largely t'would astound
Poverty would show
And harshly strike him down
And now when he begs
And asks for spare dimes
People pass him by
Not wasting their time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem