By the Time the Sun Rises

Standard
Based on Rimbaud’s After the Flood

By the time the sun rises,
Fragments of ember appear in the skies
As the building’s lights turn off one by one,
With birds chirping, singing their songs,
In anticipation of the new day.

 

How great it is to feel the cold wind
Brush through your skin, enveloping you
In an illusion of sleep, its spell broken
By the sound of alarm clocks, pulsating
In its loudness, leaving you with a yawn,
A squint in the eye, as you stretch your body
Into acceptance.

 

Out in the streets,
A streetcleaner sweeps the roadside,
Free from remnants of yesterday,
As dogs look on with their sleepy eyes,
Wondering if they can have more food today
Than before.

 

The old lady sets up her store,
Replacing jars with candies for the kids,
And shooing away men asleep on the benches
Falling in deep slumber after last night’s drunken revelries.

 

Somewhere,
A man is selling bread,
Its sweet scent filling the air,
While wives kiss their husbands good-bye,
Sending them to work,
And so begins their faithful wait.

 

Bright, warm, reality in motion—you remind us
Of our constant battle, the changing of days
As we go closer and closer to the unknown.
But you’re always welcome.

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