Space.
Location unknown.

The blue pearl has not changed,
its still marvelously the same.
It is small, looks so fragile and true
what a beauty.

Earth surface.
New York.

The absence of imagination,
The end of independent thought.

Cities reek of corruption,
****** and the greatest of sins,
They raise and **** in by millions,
But still, no one seems to win.

Under that new earth,
Into the polluted commuters fog,
Listening peacefully lies a dog.

Men, blow by,
Heads red and swollen
By the vapors of their daily work,
There jaws wide and drooling
open up and hungrily ****.

The Dog has no name,
Not yet.
But from time to time
Out of sleep he wakes,
Tail caught under a shoe,
Mouth whimpering,
Skin spotted with blue,

The dog is a stranger.
He does not know home.
He just lives with the flow of
The city's humors,
Alone, never to be given a bone.

His fur smells of tears
and chewing-gum.
His eye, filled with fear and hope,
Stays closed most of the time,
Never to be crossed by a bloke.

The dog stays silent and still.
The metro's screaming races
Petrifying his will to jump,
The penultimate thrill
Being seduced by noise and nuisance.

He was ever just a bit of
Smelly speck of debris,
To the eyes of the never
to have been free.
But he survives
Along his life by staying alive.

The world's last dog is sick:
Our companion of the first hour's
Resting place is a disgrace.
Time still speeds blindly forward,
the clocks will tick.

Behold everyone a his eye closes:
Man is separated of his brother
without shedding a tear.
Behold the approaching millenniums:
the ones of shame and fear.
Behold the new mankind
the one of dupery and skill
Man may have lost
It's one true friend
But the metro races still