Colored drops, that
Drip the weary eyes
Bleed dry hours inside the morrow cells
To uncouth the illusion:
Exhausted, perplexed and demeaned
That worn out, you;
You, who till the land,
Toil your sweat,
Mortgage your blood,
Throw your baby down the skyscrapers:
Mystified, baffled and confused
From the cavity of rage and fury
Bleated and buried;
Let Phoenix rise,
Jading the working hours;
Yet that is not finished and dry
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