The forum in a metal case,
Alexander’s library with a brick face,
Slave human habitation,
Stuck near the station,
The railway stretching like a vein,
Across the country like a stain,
The latrine,
Then bath house dream,
Once a place of conversation,
Now a place of drinking, vomiting and mastication,
The senate, once a source of strength,
Now a government, stinking of contempt,
The news once carried by word of mouth,
Now focused on the south,
Booze was once a social thing,
Now a £50 pound fine what a sting,
Life was so cheap to loose,
What’s the difference?
It’s for us to choose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem