Where can I find a drop of purest joy? When darkness swallows the dignity of light And urban life fills up with emptiness.
Dreams of the middle-class eyes shatter
In the pendulum of survival and sustenance Like a withered rose, time turns pale Stealing all the colors of life away.
Against the bourgeois winds, melancholy rises Like a fleeting thrill even in the face of death Polluted days, nights, even polluted dreams Created a world of anarchy like forbidden art.
Yet, even in the weariness of corporate rules Urban heart longs for simplicity of rural life The journey ends and the chariot of illusion Becomes the gap between birth and death.
