The crowd is a beast

The crowd is a beast that crawls on the streets,

People swarms in the honeycombs of buildings;

I hear how snake-like faucet hiss,

My neighbors staring at their muttering television.



My memory throws a picture by picture,

Bristling with events, thus making me amazed;

Some words, woven from the scraps of talking,

At my weakened mind like a thread interlace.



Cables and wires, straying, creep throughout apartments

Through the narrow arches of the furniture legs;

There are loud cries of agony under my windows

From the people clutched to the ideals of ancient.



And the rain pours tapping on this world with acid,

It erodes to oblivion all former values.

Sunken in the drowsiness, got away from present

I am searching ways to renewed time.