Combine, assemble all, you bad men now
to do your dirty deeds, chop down the tallest poppies.
Your dreams of victory, you teach each other how
a mob of little fish, in principle kills bigger guppies,
and it is true that even lions are defeated
by smelly desert hounds or hordes of fire ants.
But let me tell you that the good will not stay seated,
they will stand up, to face the bastards and their stance,
and by necessity we need association
to take a forceful and decisive final swipe,
perhaps we can succeed in blocking copulation
of those whose evil has progressed to overripe
to sacrifice that what is good and true in man.
The struggle would be a contemptible affair
so let us wipe their silly grins off, while we can
and watch them fall unpitied and to rot right there.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Don't read them then. I do. Most of mine are. H