The Withering Wellness.
Can't you say, 'I am not well'
'I am inviting death in confused tales'
In the dismay of the bundle of parasites,
I seek in vain happiness' prize '
Can't you say the cause of wearing masks,
In the drudgery of bread, -your daily task,
How great, -money and sex! !
Ah! the slavery of an insignificant fake.
Can't you confess of your ill-education,
The art of employing hellish mission,
The dialogue of profit and gain,
The study of perversion in the brain!
Can't you stand on God-gifted conscience,
Can't you display your moral strength,
For drinking a peg of peace,
From dark to darker you are going,
Ah! the meaning of wellness, -you miss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem