He was stumbling
Down freedom way
Dripping blood
A wooden cross on his back
A throne of thorns on his head
Exhausted
He fell
With the load
On his back
They yell
Scream at him
Get up stand up
Don't give up the fight
The authoritarian cops
Hijack the young man
Drinking his coke
At the Chinese shop
"Help him carry his load! "
Nailed on the cross
On Constitution Hill
Bloodied and helpless
He tells them he is thirst
And they give him petrol
Somewhere a man
Confused
By the three chirps
Of a cuckoo
Stood up and cried.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem