What does describe a bastard son?
Such names as Snow, Richard or Anderson?
Whether his clothes are ruined by the weather?
Or rather they’re financed by some strained manner?
Only God knows… – says the priest.
But what if he’s from the Middle East?
Only Allah will know how many stones he claims?
How close is a bastard born to the eternal flames?
Would his manners be really bastard?
Rudy, spicy and like a slave been mastered?
Would he have the right to read and write?
Or a writing paper for him is rather a pagan rite?
What sin has done the poor mongrel?
Maybe his breeds draw a blank scoundrel?
Is his fault in his stars or among the walls?
How long he’d be hidden till the guests leave the halls?
Poor bastard, everyone knows his story,
Feeling sorrow and pity about the history.
Known, in some way he should be pampered,
But where, how and by whom is unanswered.