Berlin

This is a poem that I wrote after my experience in Berlin. Its title is, "Berlin."

Lovely, as the stars are invisible
Time jumps by in clusters here.

Ugly, the scaffolded narrow streets pass along
With the rhythm of a city--
Made mostly of memories. Confliction.

Speeding trains, smoke, rushing people
Handrails, stick with many hands,
Gardens, columns, gates marked with victory--
Music on the metro.

Art in quiet in corners.
Linden trees, green trees, shady trees.
Brick, sandstone, stone under your feet.
Steel, shrapnel, graffiti.

Excuse me, speak English? Somehow--
somehow this culture exists.
Somehow it pulses with ambitious life--
and echoes with dark-chocolate death.

Guns, the wall still standing,
Speaking. Still.
Unchanging. Unmoving. German.

But when I come back to you, entshuldigung,
Maybe in ten years or so--
You'll be built of memories again.

Change.
And remember, you change me.