The Workers Path Poem by Dan Uriel

we live here! Our nerves are jerking
the multicoloured fish is wrestling inside
wages, labour prices
squeaks in our pockets, so we go home

newsprint on the table with bread
and in the newspaper that we are free
we chase a bug with a lamp and the lust
and we estimate ourselves with two inches splatters

this is the work
which was dressed in iron in the class struggle
we stand up for it like a chimney let's see
and we hide for him, like the persecuted

on the assembly line of history
assembled in this way the world is made,
where the labour will go to the dark factory
nails the cast star of Man