Illusion

With the assurance of the horse of progress
Galloping along this way
The streets by the gateways have been straightened as arrows
Widened and made spacious
Concreted

In reality—
Rows and rows of old trees have been hewn
The clamorous ponds have been buried
The tender backs of farmlands have been ripped apart
Dug and grubbed out

In front of everyone's eyes–
The rustic hamlets
The evergreen trees
Rivers and rills with untied tresses
All have been dragged by their nose-strings to hell

A civilization follows hobbling behind

For misapprehension or hunger
The king and his men,
When asked,
Utter not a word