There in your little streets
Or the drained narrow passages
"Gush before pay"
Cried a labourer seeking wages
Along the uninhabited rye
Or down the isolated alleys
Those tough boatmen
Still ferry
Corner of highways
Or a traffic jam
Rushing in a great haste
As they move for a hope
To enlighten the griefs
Of others..
They don't walk steps
They take progressive leaps..