Towers of splendour rise up to the sky,

Blazing with chrome, reflecting

The lonely sunshine of empty heavens.

Smog fills the ravines, sinking down;

It chokes, it clouds the mind, it covers.


Sounds, voices and noises

Spread through the grey shades; rising up

They blind nature, deafen the people with their roar;

Streams of flesh, minds and thoughts

Roll through the gorging canyons,

Drifting, changing, swarming in chaotic movement,

Yet with a peculiar kind of order.


The animals of sheet-metal

With pieces of flesh —

Not born as one, but grown together —

Roll in the middle, between masses of man,

Roaring blindly, raging or crawling; unrestrained.

No eye can rest, no pulse slow down,

Captured in dynamics, impulses and intentions.


Like a rotting apple, the city decays on the fringes,

While wounded sunlight pierces misty smog.

Crushed pieces of life tend to melt,

Twitch on a broken street, long alone, reflect

The glimpses of vital truth — forgotten.