Poets have their Ivory Towers,
Where they store their magic powers,
Where they live their perfect hours
That no Times can tear apart.
Politicians in polluted Leaning Towers,
Where they fidget, 'work' and cower,
Thinking up, how to keep Power,
And enslave the human heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, it's no wonder we poets retreat to our towers. Great description of the powers that be. Be assured that the most superior power knows and sees and will soon act to free the human heart.