Pieter Brueghel The Elder — The Tower of Babel. (c. 1563)

to insist on the exercise of a dead language, while out there the sound and the sun: the day breaks out in several tasks, unaware of grave and vain intentions, of ancient dances and odd songs.

by this ending time, the ruins display the rust of the signs: cars that run, without guide, on dead end streets.

note: this poem was at first published at my blog