Among iron grunts austere
heavy tin prisons in the sky
cold and endless concrete carpets
mulatto princesses solemn parade
before tired weary merchants
to sell their tears to fate.
The neon vibrate through the streets of downtown
including electroshock flowers to smell of incense
sweet immense in the windows only for gourmets
bottles of Tocai in bars on dusty shelves
They are unhappy examples but there is!
Meanwhile, in the old city, the metropolis is a mirage
a distant dream faded in the desert dunes
an afternoon cloud that poisons the lungs
that the dust is screaming children alone.
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