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.