In the cheating business,
The big brothers worship her feet,
The bandit queen who merits.
They add her as Idol-Honest,
For befooling the foolish in her net.
And to have the mead of political power,
They cluster round her hour by hour.
Money the honey from the laborious bees,
Is the desired object, their keys.
Their despotic motif, they mask with a bait,
And for Power-Imperialism, they make -belief,
The democracy of the proletariats in their ride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem