O one day we might come to realise,
When Life and Nature's resources run dry,
That we cannot consume money like pills
Or support colonising systems that kill.
We will find no solace in commodities.
We will be forced to contemplate broken dreams.
Like Midas of myth we'll turn all too gold,
But we'll have nothing left to feed our souls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem