Classic Poem

One who is barely a man may think he has gained the right to a kingdom
through the victories of the ancients and that destiny has passed on
sovereignty to him after death has taken all of his ancestors.
And now he towers over other men and implores his subjects
to pay him their taxes. For a ruler like that, the wealth of royal rule
truly is a heavy burden. But with a great man, the riches of his kingdom
seem as light as a dry twig in the hot season on a white, near-weightless
cork tree with its small branches growing by a reservoir where deep water
has dried away, for he has become king through his own efforts, enduring
the thick of battle and he has taken his riches on his own from kings,
ah! with their drums, with their
white umbrellas of royalty rising up stainlessly pure to the sky!