The city was stabbed
By a Shard in the heart
And an unwanted Gherkin
Spilled out of its guts
Nearby a giant disc with monstrous eyes
Swallowed people up by the riverbank
Digesting them slowly round and round
As The Canary screeched it's death from the money mine
Out across the henges of high finance
And in the distance
The bridge over Dartford
Took its toll
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem