
Silent history,
peaceful as monastery,
mystery, nature.

Silent history,
peaceful as monastery,
mystery, nature.

Promising, it seems,
a light in the horizon—
a brighter future?

A crude watermark,
staining our lives forever—
a nation, suppressed.

In the sticky smell
of an aerosol-smeared tyre
survives the painter.

Never turns its back—
nature—unlike mere humans;
if she does, all ends.