Why's your jaded tongue so slyly used
To words buttered with ensnaring tone;
Piping fibs empirical proofs poorly prop,
Waxing lies into truth's patented throne?
I with all joints and full sinews distrust
Grandiose jibes oiled by your tired lips;
And luckily mock all façades and crust
With which you gild your tempting trips.
No backing writs your warping crafts
Uphold with faintest discernible facts;
Nor do your self-blotting points agree
With any of the truth-tied deities three.
And not for tons of pleasure-lilied wiles
May I in dream your baiting tunes sing;
And neither for gain of full cosmic clout
Might my soul fall for your deking miles.
Man's indeed contented heart only craves
Pure verity as passed by its martyr slaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem