It has never been so manny empty
buildings waiting for gestures,
never so manny stairways,
which would not have reached the voice.
We are far from the possibility,
to comfortably rest in armchairs
and read the Nobel prize winners,
far from temptaions to fly from the balconies,
saying goodbye to our fears
and overtake the ancestors.
We return to home
to rest from the others.
The dust on the edges distract us,
when we wonder, occupied with bags,
how to return to the squares,
to divert attention from what
we do not want to hear.
Sometimes the marsh water increases
and the foundations shake.
The stationary blood is not dark enough
to fill the abandoned streets,
not fast enough to catch up
those who we abandoned.
Perhaps if the roofs
would dropp to the ground, we would become cautious
in the planning barriers between us and animals,
finnaly admitted that the taxes on windows
are as much vilest as the traps,
placed among the punctuation marks.
Anything what we hire or purchase
from the perspective of eternity does not exceed
the hotel room where our tomorrow' s name
will be less important than the sum on account.