I am quite satisfied with this one. I think it corresponds quite well with what I wanted to say:
“Neither a lender nor..” a poem by Michael Henrik Wynn
When I was elected mayor
I borrowed my neighbor a liter of milk,
and now it is in the public interest that he is shot.
He runs a house of very ill repute,
but those thick walls and velvet curtains
shielded him
from being denounced from my pulpit.
Great sin flourished in the vicinity of our Savior
and not even my finely tuned organ,
accompanied by heavenly voices
of our Sisters of Mercy,
could penetrate his conscience.
Woe! Hear the great bell ring,
summoning the flock.
Woe to any sheep
with furtive smiles!
My congregation has mobilized,
and I have risen to office
on Easter Day,
amidst echoes of “Amen”.
As I now load my pistol,
it is knowing that my father too
has lent that man a liter of milk.
And if our Lord asks for
the morals of my life,
it is: “Neither a lender,
nor a borrower be.”