In the burning garden of Babylon, petals of smoky flames,

Dimming eyes of fading Semiramis,

Azure fire roaring in the rust-kissed torch,

Heavenly queens' rolled black pearls.

The idol is destined to shatter marble-like,

As the soul dreamily breaks,

A cracked well with dwindling water,

Silent seabed beneath the waves.

A trident-shaped barricaded crossroads,

Encountered crystalized human speech.

If dust and ashes, why does the tongue wash away your bodily layers, leaving you bare?

No tower shines green in the evening sunlight,

The ‘I’’s final solace, a stillborn bliss.