This place is perfectly complete;
The emptiness dwells vastly
Throughout the open streets.
Thank God it's hidden from our eyes!
It's something that ought to be kept locked away
So our hands will not drain its beauty.
But when it becomes all we have left
We'll load our things and flee
These wretched trodden streets
To mutilate the perfect place.
We'll stomp the blooming flowers,
And replace the space with buildings
That cover all the forest
And scatter creatures from their homes.
We'll spread our poison in the water,
And infest the air with our smoke.
Then our garbage will flood the streets
And we'll trample it with our feet.
We're obviously cracking;
Yes, we're breaking
And falling apart.
We're hard and unstable like rocks rolling downhill.
We live in disaster and kill one another.
I'd say we're cracking and breaking,
And we're murdering the essence
Of our perfect arcane dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem