You can, of course, be highbrow.
At least, nobody can forbid.
But nonetheless you have to know,
That life prepares you a treat.
Lo! Brows are everywhere arising,
A real forest, might'ly strong.
Your life? Just cheap merchandising.
You? One speck in roll-around throng.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem