[Translated to English] I’ve dived into the silence until my inner sound flourished The song that mixes the beating of the echo of memories and the pulse of blood I can hear the pulse of blood joining the pulse of living beings: men, mammals, fish, birds, the reptiles we were in our mother’s womb, insects and worms in the dry land, all the forgotten ones in the genetic memory shouting with one voice in this deaf pulse that blood brings silently January’s southern wind brings me fragments of voices of my generation Some died in dreams, in drugs, in terrible diseases, pushed aside among rumours. Others lost their mind, unable to satisfy silent demands Some of us decided not to breed. Those who did it, walk through the narrow spiral of red figures, trying to hide from their children’s eyes what happened to the world we inherited Everyone feeding the great cement and aluminium sphinx that Allen Ginsberg called Moloch Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Cans of toxic waste and unobtainable money! Serious-looking children punished under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men lost in the parks! Moloch! Moloch! Moloch the nightmare! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men! Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the Congress of Sorrows! Moloch, whose buildings are judgements! Moloch, the vast stone of war! Moloch, the stunned governments! Moloch, whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch, whose blood is running money! Moloch, whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch, whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch, whose ear is a smoking tomb! Moloch, whose eyes are a thousand black windows! Moloch, whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like an endless god! Moloch, whose love is oil and stone! Moloch, whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch, in whom I sit! Moloch, in whom I dream angels! Crazy! In Moloch! Cock sucking! In Moloch! Lacklove and manless! In Moloch! Moloch, who entered my soul early! Moloch, in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch, who frightened me out of my natural peace! Moloch, whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! Invisible suburbs! Blind capitals! Demonic industries! Spectral nations! Invincible madhouses! Granite cocks! Monstrous bombs! They broke their backs lifting Moloch to heaven! Pavements, tress, street lamps and semi-detached houses, lifting the cities to the commercial heaven, the only one that really exists Visions! Omens! Religions! The whole boatload of sensitive bullshit! Abysses! Over the river! Flips and crucifixions! Gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despair! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! New loves! Mad generation! Down on the rocks of time! The pulse of blood joining the pulse of living beings: men, mammals, fish, birds, the reptiles we were in our mother’s womb, insects and worms in the dry land, all the forgotten ones in the genetic memory shouting with one voice in this deaf pulse that grows more and more, and what was pulse is now outcry
