Sorrow, sail to Hell
Where you wear packs of black
Slacks that ring a bell
Announcing you're stuck
In a venue whose menu
Doesn't entice any slice
Of appetite because no new
Recipe at an affordable price
Features in your dark literature
That dwells on trivia
Trash and misspent cash with neither future
Nor advert in the media
Which features fake frills
A politician patronises and terrorizes
At any press conference which thrills
His ego-tripping that offers no surprises.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem