Our golden west
Where dreams of our fathers lay
The yellow and grey pictures from by the bay
So long ago, people at their best, envied by the rest, they passed their test, now at rest.
A crumb of the dream for me, so tasty yet not filling
The crowds and masses from the east
They came to dream as well, and dream they did of something frightening
And now the crowds fill the passes, not dreaming in the least.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem