The city is sick today.
And it is infected by something invisible.
Dictatory winds, bright morning
In a cup of smoky tea in the late afternoon
Poisoned by specialized vision;
In Einstein's dead brain.
This disease is not pneumonia,
It is something that eats everything of thought, intellect, creativity, cerebrum.
This disease eats our senses.
This city today is in a devil's mood
Eats the power of values and merit
There is no sky in this city today
No birds are flying in the evening air
In a naked city, there is no definition of integrity
Here, just behind the fog across the yard,
the blooming flowers, carelessly cry!
There is nothing in this city today.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem