Heart Machine

Listen to the heart of the factory pumping
Liquified waste of production
In a scrap yard of bones made of concrete
On the chimney top stands the last welder of languid futility
Watching a torpid marsupial quagmire
Ramshackle jackhammers thumping along
To the rhythm of the assembly line
Listen to the heart of the factory pumping
Captain Ahab is back for the nightshift
Waiting down by the docks for a shipment
That may never arrive
Kiss the cobalt, smell the limestone and carbon monoxide
Now he is singing a song, it is: «Glory, glory, Hallelujah!
I’m so proud to be guarding this heart machine, it is Perfect!»
Like Phoebus on the crescent, dancing in a blizzard on the moon
Flags are hoisted, sailors are closing the breach of the shell
Ring the bell! I’m piercing the eye of the moon
From the roof I can see perfectly clear, travelling suits of silver,
mechanical telescopes, crowded barracks and scaffolds of gold
I’m piercing the eye of the moon
Snowflakes, stars and orbits, mushroom umbrellas and clouds
The mourning cloak of the belching smoke is fluttering over a house like a ghost
Through foundries and wobbling grass, rusty arbors and broken glass