One people can love a machine?
I did it.
Gears...they've rhythmic moves.
Dark brown colour,
it prints the papers to the press.
Ever the same moves, carefree.
One guy, nearby such stands,
checking it with his hands.
Machine is working honestly non-stop.
It was a press machine.
I watched it with curiosity
that spectre enchanted me
In the dark evening near the shop.
Machine is working like a carefree snob.
I was watching but on other hand
my eyes looking around worried.
Those who saw me might think I was crazy.
Finally I went away.
Like eternal rhythmic voices.
Can it turn into a human?
Can be a miracle?
If I love it at enough level....
I was going there almost every day.
More and more I became obsessed to it,
my soul slowly turned to the machine.
One day in the dark,
One guy in the park...
He was watching me with evil looks.
I walked away inside a pain.
Can it turn into a human
If I give it, m spirit??
Many days I didn't go there.
I couldn't.
But machine still in my brain.
Finally I decided to see it again.
Around of atelier
there was a large constriction zone;
Trashes, stuff that doesn't work anymore.
My God, there... Machine!
Beside the machine a baton.
No way, no!
Such a silent, static.
Somebody had broken it
or naturally it was broken
I don't know.
Then I understood that,
I was a miserable romantic.
But that's real that, it doesn't lie.
As if for a moment, I saw a movement.
Over it a few drops, does it cry?
My God! Can I bring it back with my prayer?
After a few minutes, the rain got faster,
Hopelessly, I left it.
