Beyond skyscrapers, so tall,
That everything else ceases to exist,
Beyond a hundred year old
Magnificent, brown bridge,
Beyond rainbows of human colors,
Shapes and pollution.
There is an almost ancient world,
That sometimes comes to me.
Not in a distant dream,
Or a vague fantasy,
But in a sad old song,
From the land of flames and fire.
Enchanted wailing tunes
Of Orpheus's strings,
Penetrate my ears
And the sorrows of grandmother,
Her mother,and all the mothers before her,
Find their way into my heart.
Pouring though my eyes,
Rolling down my cheeks,
Vanishing in the soil on which,
Skyscrapers stand tall,
And an old magnificent brown bridge.