Hamburg, the harbor
At night, the lights dance a strange ballet

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Initially, it is still the city

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There are even restaurants

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And then towers

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But the feast begins: raising the curtain ...

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On the black screen of my sleepless nights.

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The towers make a final round,

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And then disappear

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To make room for boats

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Who tangue like a sailor on the ground,

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Drunk from the sea he has just left.

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But the towers return

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Behind the boats

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To make a final round

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Of Magic and Light

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Before disappearing again

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They give way to boats

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And to tankers

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Who, under their large porticos

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Unload day and night, without tiring

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The most futile products

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To make the whole of Europe

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Drunk of consumer goods

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But already the boats are empty

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They move away noiselessly

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And flee into the night

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For fear of returning

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In this sinister place

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As servants of the temple of consumption

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But already, we are leaving

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And here we are at the dock.