Translated by Gary Pansey
Ridiculing Social Status
In Their Proper Places
First come officials
And then of course their boss,
Next come the famous
With so much dough to toss;
Bodyguards hold down the fort,
Execs and doctors fare well,
Phony beggars in every port,
Lap dancers crowd the stairwell;
But last and least are you and me,
Who suffer so incessantly.
Who Really Has What
The elderly scholars all trust in God,
Hardworkers at times may just get the nod,
Officials have power to use and abuse
While peasants work land yet still can’t choose,
But the big bucks belong to just who?
The scammers and loafers, not you!
How Hard the Road
The political path is a pleasant green lawn,
The businessman’s path is rosy like dawn,
But the teacher must hoe throughout the long day,
And in gloom make headway with society’s fray.
Paraphrasing Marx
The wages of workers are paid when they work;
The cadres live high just when they smirk.
Read the original from the Epoch Times.
The above poems are all by anonymous writers.