The dollar's been high so long,
we no longer put wine in glass made here,
but export it in bulk
and have it bottled where it's drunk.
If the dollar keeps getting stronger
it soon won't be worth it any longer
to make bottles for our favorite here
and we'll import bottles for bottling beer.
Both of these export foul air
made in the making of glass.
The first makes the user pay
and has class, I'd say,
like the captain
going down with the ship.
The second has pride,
as the user thinks
we have longer than we possibly can
before the whole world irrevocably sinks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem