Dark white clouds over the mountains
No drop of rain or a bit of morning sunlight
The youth in slumber by the beautiful fountains
The due or morning droplets reflecting sight.

Jungle notes the singing birds of painful hope
In the city of rare sights such natured blight
The smoke of forgotten factories may cope
But destruction and chaos in solstice light.

Twilight the dark moon says such silence
Darker clouds a nocturnal rainbow of enchanting embrace
The morning Poetry forgot yet we recite in pretence
White pure green tainted beautiful thing in blank space.

The voice that remembers the long forgotten recites
The old heroes had to engulf to acquire dreams
The singing weapon veiled by the mothers' in cries
Or the regret of immovable doubt or stolen rights.