When the wheel of justice is square
A fair trial could be nowhere
It is not even octagon
For those who've none would hardly roll
For those who've much it smoothly grinds
For those without it gathers rust
Hard to swallow, but it's a fact
The laws of the land in much you trust
Behind the bars will let you rot
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem