He looks holy with his cassock,
Waiting his companion to come;
With an enthusiasm to mock,
Wearing the cassock like a dove;
His cassock is white as a sky above.
Here, a big and black mammal,
Wearing his cassock like a doll;
And he walks on the wooden crack,
And somebody assail like noisy duck;
Then, a song of sorrow for the weak.
Not let the cancer to devour,
And run away from the rubbish torture;
In the immense territory of God Almighty,
And the power will never fade away.
Here another big and black mammal,
Have no grisly face and action is not immoral;
He looks lively and healthy,
He feels a scourge and goes astray;
Co’z not able to escape from the mockery.
We’ve four houses and smaller members,
We’ve more degrees but less sense;
More knowledge but less judgment,
More experts yet more problems;
Wider freeway but narrower viewpoints.
We’ve learned how to make a living but
Not a candid friendship,
We’ve added years, not life to years;
We’ve been all the way to the moon and back,
But have trouble killing this cancer for us to build friendship.
We’ve conquered outer space, but not inner space,
We’ve done larger things, but not better things.
We’ve cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.
Remember, devour this cancer for the better life!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem