Poverty, poverty, poverty knock,
Knock, knock, knock, around the clock,
Pounding away at my chamber door,
Till I’m living, living no more.
The beat of drums resounds in my heart,
The cadence echoing in my head,
Pound, pound, pound, pound, it begins to smart,
Resounding the war for which I dread.
Poverty, poverty, poverty knock,
In ant of money, my least concern,
Pounding, pounding, as my world falls in a box,
I succumb to death as I watch the world burn.
Despair my adversary in my dear heart,
Wanting joy as joy I depart,
My world turns as nothing I see,
Everything gone as I cease to be.
Poverty, poverty, poverty knock,
The beat of drums resounds in my head,
Turn of the world upon a block,
Ratta-ta, ratta-ta, I am dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem