'Poems don't pay bills, ' she says,
and zooms him down to earth,
with her firm hold on reality
and quiet respect for wealth.
Poems, nonetheless, have helped
to make black mornings bearable
and huge mistakes acceptable.
Is he the only one who made so many?
Money, in the toughest, darkest times,
just paid for beer, to overdrink,
cigarettes, to oversmoke,
or food, to overeat.
Overdoing almost everything
didn't help him over anything -
just weighed him down
and sank him faster.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem