Prof. HASIT BUCH
You surely see them
sympathetically-benevolently.
But do never meet;
You talk-read-write about the folk,
Say, the mass of common-men,
Vociferously-elegantly;
This ocean of multitudes you care for
To steer smooth indeed, your ship!
The perspiration foul and burning sighs,
Scuffles, shouts and also daily fights,
Lust-chase wasted and hunger half-fed,
Thirst bare, simple, yet unquenched
Of helpless surge of many, many
In buses, in trains,
In clusters of cottages, called villages
In suffocating crowds of room-houses named
cities!
Yes, you have rosy maps for them;
Have welfare-charts drafted in their name!
Wise times are these!
Maybe, for them, this is an unescapable Must!
Wise indeed! The volcano hesitates to burst!