What are we going to do
If we have all the time in the world
And nothing to do in it really?
Are we all going to have fool ourselves
Just to keep going in a somewhat happy way?
Or are we all going to despise ourselves
For being parasites
Who take and take
And give nothing?
The world is open
The machines are doing everything
The best and brightest rule
And the rest of us schlumps
Sit around wondering how
we manage to go on
doing and being nothing
totally useless.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem