The tyrants psyche is broken.
He sits in his gilded palace
Surrounded by his trusty band
Of armed thuggish cutthroats, waiting
For the inevitable end.
Outside the palace walls a crowd
Of angry, loathing citizens
Whose long suppressed voices bellow
An immediate regime change;
But like most tyrants of the past
Ego and self-aggrandizement
Deludes clear, rational thinking;
As a result, grasping at straws
Hoping for the impossible.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem