Feet of clay, fragile feet of clay make you human;
You refuse the scurrilous status of an ignoble idol;
It lives in the mind of an ardent admirer;
The sycophant believes you deserve a prominent pedestal
Built in hideous Hades, in Dante's Inferno
Where the inquisition drives you suicidal.
Feet of clay fare better than
Mock modesty, pious poppycock;
The prude dishes out draconian drivel to whip
Servile souls, downtrodden drivers whose rise they block
To glorify their egregious egos, to win gangrene gains;
They flog feet of clay. From his brave back they peel off frayed frock.
Snow white saints, self-appointed spokesmen exist only
In the futile fantasies of dodgy dreamers;
Vicious vampires believe faults, follies and foibles make him less human
As long as he doesn't side with subterranean screamers
But, feet of clay wouldn't claim he'd never faltered
Although, so doing, entails foregoing light from streamers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem