children grow up slowly here
nobody hears them play
women have the candor of willows
when walking down on Cinematograph's street
dreaming of rich sad divas’ parts
and men have legs of sand
in this city bearing the name of a river

nothing disturbs the silent stroll
of passengers among
chestnut trees denuded
in the middle of summer

here
a silence with steel eyes
rules every piece of
the dwellers’ grey hearts
forgotten by shadows that once
used to cover them up