Straight lines no curves
A history bombed flat
a cold naked canvas at
the mercy of adventurous architects.
Plans meticulously laid from
dreams of scholarly men
turning ghosts whispers
from the ether to the angular.
Some say monstrosity, abstract
forms of tactless construction.
I see true peace in symmetry
A prayer in concrete form.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The buildings of Rotterdam are so imaginative aren't they...beautiful to see...great write Peter...thank you...10++