A Vision
Eifel tower the old whore is lit up again
her wide open legs still drip blood, and
her hips are white and slim and she has
blue-rinsed hair. She is ready to welcome
the masses people without an ideology
and those who think that having sex in
a hotel near the Seine where millions of
condoms that slowly find their way to
the sea is the heights of romantic living.
Young men came, they had a creed wanting
to destroy this Sodom and Gomorrah, but
the tart in the centre of Paris tells us we will
survive because we are Godless and place
lust for life first
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem