Acres and acres of beautiful land across the country,
marred by the progressive insensitivity of man.
Molding and shaping nature into brazen ideas, whimsical
to the imagination.
Scouting horizons for beauty and skies, seeing poles,
one after another, tied together with wires.
Dust devils escaping, twirling around, trying futilely
to erase the ugliness of man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem