The rich are those who have to eat
Enough to throw away
With cars, TVs, a lighted street
And full stomachs each day
Free range eggs, chicken, lean steaks
Fresh vegetables and fish,
Chocolate gateau whipped cream cakes
And soup to fill each dish
So eat the rich in flourishing lands
Filling bellies of man
But who today yet understands
It’s not our Father’s plan
While hungry live most our neighbours
A stench to God on high
So little fruit bear their labours
Their children starve and die
The rich have goods, enough to give
Great mountains of butter
While the poor seeking to live
Survive in a gutter
In tents, cabins in huts on pillars
Grateful to lay their heads
While palace houses and villas
The rich enjoy their beds
How my friend do you sleep at night?
How do you spend your day?
Do you for food have need to fight?
Or money enough to pay
So many remain without a thing
Suffering torment and pain
But still to God they richly sing
Knowing its not in vain……
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem