In the streets, murmurings of life,
whispers of dreams that the wind nests,
graffiti that tell silent stories,
fragments of love, forgotten battles.
Children peep through narrow windows,
a thimbleful of the world which time gambles on,
their eyes, two beacons of curiosity,
explore the new with eagerness and truth.
The old, with steps that mark distances,
calmly observe the new instances,
in front of the snake that moves in shadows,
a thread of life that the cycle renews.
The streets are canvases painted in haste,
where souls laugh, where laughter cries,
and in every message that the ground unfolds,
life is sustained in its dance, its delivery.
