romantics sing of justice
cynic cry it's only a tool
for rulers and designers
the tree of justice has many branches
grows and bloooms if watered by tolerance
in days of social drought is stunted
withers falling into decay
the lady in marble dressed in a toga
holding the scales of justice
is a harlot in disquise
prostrating herself
before each new ruler
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I take it you come down on the side of the cynic rather than the romantic.