My City in a Hundred Years
My city, in a hundred years, will be like this,
This is the beginning of a seed in the womb.
We must stop the birth of this cursed seed together,
Or else, we will have a city filled with lead, smoke, and fumes.
The gray sparrows are no longer our neighbors,
The songbirds, once perched in the shade of trees, are gone.
People are strangers to the blue sky,
Indifferent to each other, in a city of ruins.
The crows remain as black as the clouds,
No more children's laughter echoes in the alleys.
People, estranged from the sky, breathe in the suffocating air,
Where pollution has entangled everyone in the city.
Their lungs are filled with dust and the haze of loneliness,
This unwanted fate leads only to despair.
The city, empty of rain in its streets and alleys,
And the trees, weary and sick, hide in the corners.
The flight of birds over scarce open spaces still continues,
Beyond this point of release, letting go feels like losing life itself.