There's no such thing as a 'final copy';
A 'good copy'
For there's always room for improvement
Just like in people
Every piece of art, literature, can be improved upon
Every person can grow to be better,
Even the most giving
How can anyone say, 'This is my good copy';
'This person is perfect'
Person or creation,
It's time to face the facts
This world,
Everything in it and surrounding it,
Is imperfect
Every person
Every poem or painting
No matter how much you edit something, or someone
Someone will always be dissatisfied
Imperfection is a reality
Perfection is a myth
There is no good copy,
Just a whole lot of drafts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem