A mockery

They live in poverty,
They hide in their corners like the spiders…
You can’t even imagine what they have to see
In their world of our nowadays

In dirty cellars
In garets rotten through -
They’re everywhere -
They keep an eye on you…

They wear clothes
Which can’t be called like this:
The same shoes made of holes
And old paternal jeance…

So thank the God:
You aren’t one of them!
You’re unbeleiving but
It’s gonna make you pray!
How can you curse
What you have ever been -
Your little problems seem
To be a mockery…



You are so hard to please…
You waste your money going on the spree
While they can kill each other for the peace of bread -
They pick the garbage which they are to eat!

And their children go and beg for alms -
And you feel an oversion for their arms!
They are deleted from the very birth
And even their Sun is not the same as yours…

So thank the God
Who keeps you far away:
You have a chance to fly
And you can choose your way
While they were born
To die of poverty…
If you complain it sounds
Like a mockery..!



Is there God
If he permits such pain?
Whose is the fault? And who
Must serve the punishment?
What is to trust now?
What is to beleive? –

 - All our unfair life
Is just a mockery…



28/12/04