walking throughout the clearings
of wasted town
we see, the lightless ceiling,
there, where the shadows on the ground are missing
and their clouds blown
by those shouted lies,
remain over the persecuted
hidden and asleep passer-bys.
perhaps they will wake up
and get out of the mud and shit
forsake the indiference of the clowns
and laugh the enemies defeat
kill the fascists,
make their increasing, fall down
or perhaps to die among them after to cheat.