Poem -

Unbearable images

Unbearable images

Unbearable images.

It's not good to look through your window just before going to bed...

Grandma, are we going to look through the window again?
Come, my little one.
From the top of the mansard they had an idyllic view
about the city with its towers and buildings a diadem of beauty.
With tears in the eyes
grandma saw how elsewhere the walls are surrounded by enemy armies.
She heard the voices of mothers and children who fought for bread in a besieged city among smoldering ruins of temples and palaces
prey to the flames
similar to wreckage on a wild coast.

It's beautiful, isn't it grandma.
Yes, my little one.
Then why are you crying, grandma?
 

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