The Unemployed by Bertolt Brecht

You who have just
Come from your food
Permit us to tell you of our
Unceasing concern with food like yours
(Not that something more modest would not do).

We ask you: observe us
In our unceasing search for work.
Too bad that food and work
Are subject to immutable laws
Unknown ones.

Yet ever are falling
Downwards
Through gratings in the metalled streets
All kinds of people without marks
Or description to identify them, downwards
Suddenly, silently, quickly downwards
Snatched out of the mainstream of hmanity according to
No clear principle
Six out of seven downwards, but the seventh
Enters the food room.

Which of us is it? Who
Has been detailed to be saved?
Who is marked out?
Where is the grating that's nearest?
- Unknown.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brecht's_poetry