There’s no money in poetry
Coz' poets are the biggest fools
Penning for the love of it
Not demanding what is due
Got to change garbs now
And write songs and ad jingles
To sell some color water
And lure a billion people
You get paid a pretty fortune
And they get peptic ulcers
I’ll die a rich jingler
Than live a poor poet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem