This old land, a tessellated pavement
Parcelled out to ages of diligent farmers
This old land, a lettuce of field-drain
Never curved but properly cut into
Miles and miles away, out where blue and green
Meet the painters´ eye and the poets´ dream
Grows a shining new dormitory town
Streets dividing the neatly scalpelled ground
This old land, a playground for planners
Well prepared by ages of diligent preachers
This old land, a balcony flower
Kept inside, when nature bursts into
Things irrational, not so straight and nice
Not so easy to compartmentalise
Swearing colours and jarring notes in the
Composition of order
This old land
Has all the lonely features of the Occident
This old land, a tessellated pavement
Parcelled out to ages of diligent farmers
This old land, a balcony flower
Kept inside, when nature bursts into
Things irrational, not so straight and nice
Not so easy to compartmentalise
Swearing colours and jarring notes in the
Composition of order
This old land
Has all the lonely features of the Occident