The aim for politics
Is really for public service,
Yet when they're in the throne,
The aim becomes a stone,
Carve as monumental figure,
Unmoved to live longer than the future.
All eyes are in awe,
what's in politics then,
Once a person who enters,
He swears to stay forever,
Though terms ended,
Con Ass is pushing in,
To stay in a Royal inn,
While most are in gambling dens.
May public service is
A really a treaty of justice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem