if you listen at night,
the trash in the alleys comes alive.
there is a whispering
that fills the cardboard boxes.
the cans and bottles play
an unearthly music.
and vacant houses talk to god,
or perhaps the demons of poverty.
the wind stops blowing,
and the stink hangs like a cloud...
the evidence of blind excess!
the bodies of the nameless ones,
rise from the filth of forgotten.
the rats join ranks with stray dogs,
and testify against your indulgence!
soon, probably sooner than you think,
your eyes will be covered with dirt.
and the worms will take what you have hoarded,
as if you never owned a thing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like it, it made me think of the times when I've walked home by myself in the early hours, theres no one about but you seem to hear noises coming from everywhere. a great poem.