It’s not the quantity; it is the quality.
One can be worth a million or more.
But it is the quantity, when money,
Not honey, is involved. If I bore
You, keep it to yourself; that’s our secret.
All the hoopla!
It’s the money, the mula.
I am not talking about the mule, you dummy.
I mean lots o’money baby.
Please do not feed it to your pet.
Less is sometimes better.
Ignore the hate-monger,
Because a hater is a passenger,
That nobody will remember.
Applaud your critics,
They make you exquisite
And important. The ticks
Are everywhere, they crave
For attention, they rave,
Rant, faint, and meet,
And nothing is accomplished,
And nothing important is published.
Life is full of them,
They fill up the garbage bin,
And the dam.
Nope, you cannot say goddamn,
For all the hoopla.
It is the money, the mula
Not the honey,
Not the poetry.
Keep everything discrete,
Until we meet,
Until we wipe our feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem