$TRUMP

Poem: Reproach and Threat

Why do I have hunger and the bombardment is yours?

Hunger begs me to ask you

And I plant my field so you reap it

And you get drunk with my sweat with your sickle

Why? And in your fists are the treasures;

You extend your fingers to my morsel

And you feed my hunger and are called honest;

And has the thief ever become a king?

Why do you rule over my misery?

Answer my question even if it embarrasses you

And if you do not answer, then the silence of the answer

With noise... repeating, how despicable you are!

Why do you trample my wounded entrails;

And in it is the tenderness that pampered you

And my tears; And my tears gave you nectar

I remember, "O scoundrel," how I intoxicate you!

How ignorant I was of fate

And woe to you, how ignorant you are!

Tomorrow you will know who I am

And nobility will rob you of your nobility

For in my ribs, in my blood, there is anger

If it storms, it will extinguish your torch

Tomorrow, memories will

Your past, your future

And your last, the submissive, will turn back

With his sins, he will despise your first

And sin will ask: Where is the sinner?

And how did he end up? Which path did he take?

Tomorrow, do not say I repented: Do not apologize

Regret and shroud your property here

And do not: Do not say: Where is my tomorrow?

For your hands did not nail the sky

Tomorrow, I will not applaud the caravan of darkness

I will shout: O dawn: How beautiful you are!