Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne

XIV. Civilization

Mutely, like large dreams witnessing the moon: flowers hardly live here, the world’s packed it in; you realize too late what your life foretold: your life – false heaven! or thundering hell! no rose bush stands above all loves; in “sentimental” winds, industrial gases churn: it turns the nose and gut, lungs breathe it in – my rotting brain screams! I start to think: like a Neanderthal on whose face appears by chance the twist of rationality: Chaos! and we proudly become brain-beings! …that I fly from all this, forever and far. I’ve sought my tiny home forever because – resigned – I’m already seeking my own calm: I walk the valley of green and silent dreams.


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