bells ringing non-stop on a Sunday

10 am and the coffee cup, half-full of expresso, stares at me

whereas I only see a tall and green spiky campanile,

well, kind of I think about them more than anything else,

I'm, after all, surrounded by relatively tall buildings,

all pointing the sky, outsmarting the clouds and the horizon,

but those pointy acute green triangles,

singing and cheering the ambience of narrow streets,

a song that bounces on the sleepy banks

reverbing and twisting and smoothly undulating the waters of the Limmat,

who carries away the melodies,

to be heard kilometres away,

to lavish old townships,

to remain all in you, that you were religious, at least only a few times,

were you at that time also seeing the sands and the shiny sunrise?

-~0~-

árboles plátanos dorados, gigantes

hechos crocantes por el invierno,

cruzando el punte de hierro recto y remaches,

desde alguna ladera rodeada de hoteles veo la escena,

constructores dejaron aferradas los bancos,

el puente uniendo los dos ríos,

(en torre alta, desde el living veo las luces, los arboles,

escucho la iglesia que llama a los que aun dormitan,

o cuecen café bajo presión,

viendo noticias, notas y escritos en sus pantallas)

cruzando no parece un parque, es una maqueta de cobre 

y en medio, una edification grisacea de geometría abstracta y polygonal, rodea un dorado ginkgo.