All of us are sellers.
In exchange of past assets
We buy present and future,
Sell them again to remain on stage.
To keep the TRP as a noon sun
We have to sell us for money, fame and throne.
All shows end one day,
As a pauper we then beg to embrace the blue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thus is a nice thought.