I dare to make the cheeky claim:
George Soros is no Hungarian.
Probably, he is the Chinese,
as brilliant as pure as can be.
Although he lacks almond-shaped eyes,
and smiling is not his thing.
But as an emperor, he could suffice,
like a messiah in court he'd bring.
His empire is the left center,
that devoutly crawls before his throne,
and gladly, in the old right way,
sniffs at golden slippers alone.
On silk and porcelain grand,
his state is that of communism,
and it matters little to him,
rather, it's clever activism.
For one thing, we must give him credit:
The fools love him as a fool's fool,
to the freedom they heartily dread,
for they fear it as a rule.
They are of course allowed to revolt,
like a true Pekingese breed.
They are also supposed to fervently fetch,
both thesis and antithesis indeed.
But before his imperial throne,
surrounded by all sorts of eunuchs,
ultimately, it is important,
that the emasculated quietly curse.
That he doesn't spare his foundation's gold,
some barons lament with a sigh.
Only colorful puppies believe,
that what is brown can be begged or bought.
Whoever loves Soros, understands,
the world is colorful like red towels.
He doesn't need old books either,
it runs smoothly without bows.
Where Soros and appearance reign,
until it loses its worth,
Everything runs like well-oiled gears.
"Niemand ist mehr Sklave als der, der sich für frei hält, ohne es zu sein" (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, 1809)