To the lesser gods...
Your fingernails are dirty.
To the higher gods...
Your hair is a mess.
Why speak your mandates
To humankind, when you
Need soap and a brush?
Dare you! How dare you!
Temples can be razed.
Offerings halted.
How dare you! Give us
The blood of our loved ones
Back!
Shades of a beggar neither bearing gifts nor seeking charity - merely making demands! Sounds blatantly political... Rgds, Ivan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
People with clean nails and tidy hair can't be bothered with the complaints of the unkempt. I remember reading a very strong and justified complaint written to the source of his discontent. The recipient disdainfully pointed out the grammatical efforts and poor penmanship of the letter's author.