It turns out people are like ants.
The ruling elite makes the rules,
Like when a flood happens by chance,
Rafts are built out of living tools.
The younger ants are forced to make
Up the raft's bottom layers thick.
They're more buoyant for floating's sake,
More apt to survive - they're the pick.
Of course the queen and her elite
Have dibs on the raft's safest spot.
The costs and the benefits meet.
The older have, younger have not.
The young must pay for old to be.
Just like Social Security.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem