Dark. Still. Black.

Not a word. Sleeps the family.

Works, works through the night

THE CITY – A HUMAN FACTORY.

Girls ruffle their linen.

It’s eerie and stops their breath –

Painfully, they dream of sinning,

Their first, sweet death.

The windows blacken. All is asleep.

Hush!… In the silence – a shrill.

In brothels, hotels, chambres garniers,

To the rhythm of blood keep

Turning, a thousand vanes of the mill.

The City – millions of pallets,

A gigantic mating coop.

Tomorrow, the doctor will fix

All the rash, every callus

On every woman’s croup.

People in infirmary halls,

All wide like a funnel,

Crowded in hospitals,

A never-ending motley runnel.