She has the beauty, she has the grace
Of the colourful breath and the sun lights
Man runs to keep pace with her strolls
Swims with her current to satiate his thirst
Her salty waters never do quench his lusts
He builds skyscrapers to feel high on her land
Feeds and breeds as though there was no end
He dances to her rhythms around-the-clock
As she plays her pipe to lure him into his lock
He pants on her streets in happiness hunt-
The butterfly that haunts his trembling sense.
… Age slips on her stairs until he shades
He stumbles, he lies flat in her dark grave. She grimaces and keeps on playing her lure.