Under the hazy, blossom-laden sky
The city sprawls, its gaping wounds exposed:
The streets due to surgical operation,
Canals gathering pitch and filth,
Bridges with their concrete peeling away.
Under the hazy, blossom-laden sky
Cranes moving, drainpipes lined up,
Truck after truck
Carrying dirt, rubbish, mud
The burnt-out, festering hulks of war.
Dark caverns in the streets:
On the canal-bed, submerged groans and sighs
Of those who will not surface:
Methane gushing up.

In the city with those clogged wounds
International streets will appear soon,
Rows of gay shops will grow,
Tempting goods will brighten the windows.
Under the hazy, blossom-laden sky

New building goes on.
Our ears turned to the detonations under the hazy,
blossom-laden sky,
We pray
That the fire-rain never again fall on the world.