we sail on the gondola of life with lanterns of illusion
on the narrow channels of the streets filled with human sweat
we pass faces hidden behind masks of visible fear
probably because of the lack of perspectives for a lucrative future
only outstretched hands quietly tremble moved by the wind

the juices squeezed out of the daily toil of life flow
at a street casting everyone is an outstanding actor
the behavioural repertoire, overloaded with trends, is slowly disappearing
it can be found in a TV film on an old cinema screen
I wonder where those gentlemen are who are supposedly no longer there

meanwhile, a street bully prowls the streets
puffed up in designer clothes and Android phones
glued to the grey cell of his own personality
while we eagerly await the coming of spring
I think it's far away, where the Statue of Liberty stands.