Willard goes to the well
for a drink of water
on a furnace hot day
but there’s no water
only a beggar sitting
yogi-style at the bottom
with a tin cup in one hand,
a bouquet of pencils
in the other, but alas
no one is buying.
He yells up to Willard:
“Go get a ladder.
I have to come up
before the election
so I can register.”
A tycoon put him in the well
after a primary rally where
the beggar had shouted,
“Trickle-down economics
is never the answer.”
The crowd cheered
when the beggar added,
'Trickle down is nothing more
than the droppings of a
monitor lizard, chomping.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem