My fortune is big, bigger than oil and silver,
Open the chest of treasure which is hot and ready,
The skin has been contaminated, of goals and looks,
How are your messages recorded by the machinery?
My fortune died a long time ago, houses were fair,
Jokes were limited, never are they strong to live up to now,
Make the jest and keep order and justice.
I produce the machinery,
And you do the hard work.
My fortune is big, but I am biggest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem, well penned. Ian