Radical poets,
Painters and activists, like
Wild serpents, slither
In artificial gardens.
They're unwelcome guests
At pretentious events and
Vain ceremonies.
They are abhorrent
To certain classes
And dour, dry academics
Who insist that they
Are ruining 'paradise.'
Yet they continue
To subvert things from within,
Which has its merits,
Within the grand scheme of things.
They hiss at the fakes
And all of the popinjays.
If you're one of them,
You'd better hope they don't bite!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem