A world called tomorrow
We sat around a hearth of dim fires
Sipping our coffee laced with sugar.
Considered as most acclaimed and influential poets,
By the usual world of glitz and glamour,
We were rather focusing on mankind's fate
While the river flowed languidly.
We remembered the illustrious moments
Of great inventions, of great makers of civilization,
Of fighters of liberty, the abolition of slavery,
The languages, the writers and the satires,
The painters and the singers and accompanying musicians
And the sweet sweat on the neck of farmers.
We, as avant-gardistes of our times
Could not allow our minds to play old thoughts.
Our unrelenting passion for humanity's progress
Which must glow like paint on canvas,
The gleaming light that stands on man's path
Will never leave man like old trash or recycled garbage.
Man's evolution must not lead to man's degeneration.
While the columns of smoke rose
Like falcons flapping their wings
For the great heights, with graceful composure,
We eased our troubled hearts
And prayed for man's unity, for love and for peace.
Prayers have powers, conclusively, incisively.
With our uniform loneliness, we started drawing
On plain paper, with our box of crayons
Of a world called tomorrow.