The Chinaman poor starving soul
Grubbing about in cracks and silt
Will eat all living creatures from his bowl
So elegantly painted red and gilt.
He shoves his hard-earned rice with fingers
So recently poked in the mud
Into his salivating mouth where lingers
Tangs of ants or dogs or still-warm blood.
From heights of Godly regulations
Handed from Sinai, Jews are bound
To sigh that though we wish like other nations
To savor shrimp or dog that's finely ground
Into sweet slivers fried with pork
We'll only do it if it's served
In Guangxu, Ming bowls, Qing, without a fork
Of course, as God decreed we eat! and curved
Utensils were not on His lists
So He created chopsticks made
Organically from twigs which Chinese wrists
Manoeuvred with much art in bowls of jade.
Man lives to eat! Said God, but sent
Us Jews to labor in the field
Advising not to hunt, which we resent
And leaves us waiting for an annual yield
While we can't eat our bugs or pets -
Available, just made for man -
All living things imbued with our regrets,
Tormenting us with morals in a flan.
Give us the fruits of Eden please!
If not, let us eat as we're eaten
By octopus and swine and worms and fleas,
In porcelain with fingers licked to sweeten.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem