Night in the City

Night in the City

Do you refuse to accept that love was here

imagining birds, unearthing ruins?

Rain, rain and music are black in these streets

crowded with crucified people that walk,

the dying that work,

unburied corpses clapping and smiling.

Perhaps there still remains in this space

of shattered dreams, mashed dreams,

another crazy dreamer repeating:

light is close, light is near.

But, as in other times, only a cold and empty

silence answers,

a festive, blind hustle and bustle

of these dead remains,

the perfectly dead               dead.

Only a sour, metallic drop of night can be heard,

an immense black sheet of iron.