Dreams are for fools,
Not even tools,
They are for superstitious prats,
And silly old women with pointed hats,
Dreams are the stuff of lazy minds,
Although there are many kinds,
All are corruptive,
None productive,
They fill your head with deceit,
And make your heart ever faster beat,
Smart men buisness men neither do dream,
Instead they are extra keen,
New ideas everyday,
With rational thought they do stay,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem