I enjoy walking, especially in a big city.
The skyscrapers pointing toward heaven,
the walls guarding between houses,
the trains croaking underground: supreme
architecture, miraculous handiwork.
But I have a mind of ruin,
heaps of stones filling my eyes of waste.
I enjoy walking. Treading on the shoulder of
road I tread on barren fields;
I see the sky in its whole. A conflagration
could reduce the monuments to ashes.
I enjoy walking. While walking I see my ruin,
my barren in its whole.