Parcel of honour,
Unpinched by the poke of men;
A vessel so clean
to catch the busy eyes of God
You guarded your lamp
Amidst thunderstorms of moral rot,
Setting a fight burning so high
above the mountains
For fellow mortals to see
But see... see...
Dogs are copulating here with dogs,
Gathering heaps of shit at your feet
Are you a refuse ground?
Or a truck pusher, or a truck driver?
Are you a night soil woman?
Are you hired to engage in this eternal
Of sweeping the filth of men and
the fight of men against their
the abortions by girls and married
the theft of rulers, diplomats and
the extortions of policemen and office
the endless list of man's deliberate shit
in the tendered gardens of the
Dogs are here
shitting naked in our kitchen
and in their own pots
The shits remain for them
like for the dogs the water
in a broken earthen-pot.