All riches
By other's sorrows gain
Are always found in vain
In ditches.
All dwellings
Built by labours unpaid
Will e'er be reign'd by hate
And fightings.
All faces
That with proud gaze e'er fix'd
Shalt be made to be mix'd
with faeces.
All that hearts
Painted with dark colour
Apt to be in dolour
Ne'er with lights.
16-Dec-2007
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem