Hometown

Native city, your life is long
Film wiped roll.
The one collecting dust on the shelf.
I send you a low bow.

Your streets are highways
became a stream of cars.
You will see a horse on the coat of arms,
on big name days.

There are fewer old houses:
fires, dilapidation and decay.
And the new building is ugly,
people are promised only captivity.

Captivated by spiritual impulses,
Good thoughts are in short supply.
The design rooms are miserable,
Here only boredom reigns.