The eloquence of innocence
Is trampled in the crowd.
It will not bring one English pence
Where consciences are cowed;
Upon the altar of the dense,
Its blood will do us proud.
Man straddles on the nearest fence;
No voice is raised aloud.
Reflections from society
Display a lack of nerve,
Displaying their fake piety,
Too pitiless to swerve.
They wear a callus on each knee,
Too scared to fight, too dumb to flee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem