Not one.
But more than four thousand...
Are drilling deep.
For greed and profit.
And to keep green in pockets.
But a greasy mess seeps.
Pressured from depths,
No one can reach.
Although fresh technologies...
Could have made things cheap.
But creeps...
Have dollar signs in their minds!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem