With more and more money,
would I feel unloved.
No one man
pays attention to me.
Unloved and his head.
Crowned,
the sea full of wind.
The grass and I placed beyond.
Is this it.
Poetry and money to one.
The snowy dance I preformed
with the man without his yellow hat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem