The honest person wore no colors,
Never preached, had no followers,
Woke every day in a different room,
Walking and wandering with a broom.
Countless power worked around the day,
Guiding and halting the nomadic ray,
To them not an inkling was paid,
For someone else had problems to be allayed.
Not one day would go to waste,
No one day would govern his fate,
No one day is complete for him without
being better than that yesterday's lout.
Never preached, had no followers,
Woke every day in a different room,
Walking and wandering with a broom.
Countless power worked around the day,
Guiding and halting the nomadic ray,
To them not an inkling was paid,
For someone else had problems to be allayed.
Not one day would go to waste,
No one day would govern his fate,
No one day is complete for him without
being better than that yesterday's lout.
As far as I understand, I think your poem is about a utopian situation wherein politicians become hardworking and committed to their constituency. However, I felt that this information had to be extrapolated rather than suggested by you, which is why I made the suggestion above.
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