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(for: Those who go by New Tarzan) 

We have heard many of those lofty tales; 
Of her toying with our golden rule: 
Of her flying strength across the roads, 
When some fawning dogs of buses come 
Wagging their tails of old horns 
Wagging at her smiling inmates; 
When some privates come, ready 
To lead her into some controversies
Through their vulgar speed of competition!
O we have heard many wild tales 
Which commission more works of wages 
Like sands for our road safety;
Sadly – we salute the inmates of New Tarzan, 
We greet from our lonely V-Boots!

With louder and clearer voice, 
Greet Confucious, the wisest 
And deepest thinker of Old China, 
Stood like a prophet warning mankind:
“Try to live by the golden rule!”
But we dwell by the river’s waves
Near the wonders of taste-and-cost;
Now her trumpet rouses a brother:

“Behold New Tarzan has gone up;
Yet we dwell in these far north’s hills!”
What we hear – is it true:
She is our Phoenician purple-dyed cloth, 
Famed from each ancient shore to another, 
That pride of all ancient kings and queens?

It is like table-talks of comfort and joy?
What we hear – is it true:
She is the first-rate story, 
Novel to roads that lie in quietness, 
Captious of her speed and noise? 
Fast like the Athenian Pheidippides, 
In the newest race for technology
She visits us from her far away horizon;
Now, what we hear – is it true:
She is a growing dogma for the roads,
Or, is it table-talks of comfort and joy?
Then – to those who go by New Tarzan,
To these joy-lipped inmates of a gome of comfort, 
We greet from our lonely V-Boots!

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