Pleasant Room with View

"PLEASANT ROOM WITH VIEW"

Here below the hydroelectric plant

The lights burn all night inside my room;

Outside the window black dirt is piled up,

Dark cars pass by as if in deep sleep

Along the road as far as I can see.

The cord is pulled on the television,

But the sounds still buzz into the room;

With only a mirror for companionship,

I pour myself drinks alone before it,

Having forgotten the reason for this trip.

And I have rehearsed the very worst,

Afraid of strangers' knocks at the door,

Making nightmares of my dreams of thirst

Each night in the desert of my sleep,

Shouting, "Some respect, some respect please."

Another week goes by: never moving,

As the last consequence of not thinking,

I lie in bed like a corpse in state,

Mouth open, eyes closed, waiting to be hit

From behind in the neck, then buried in dirt.

But each night the planet renews its light-

Or so I've been told-and now, at sunset,

I want to follow the flames in their flight

Down the walls, dropping onto my hands,

Falling silent before the stillness of death.

This night I expect a network of stars

To stab without thought into my chest,

As I, my last deep breath filling the air,

Become a sacrifice of fatted flesh

Which no one knows or helps or understands.