Oh, what do they say about Babel? The towers are made of gold and the gardens, of diamonds!

What do they say about Babel? The king is eternal and the children two stars!

The walls of the temples are made of sunlight! The willows shed tears in rivers of silver. The flesh of men is made of clay, and the burns in their veins of light, so they say!

But there is nothing.


What was gold is now dust under my legs! Where are the pyramids of sacrifices? The palace of judgments? Where is the king who was eternal?

There is a tomb, there is a tomb in the middle of the sands! And what do I do, what can I do? I crawl dry, my knees broken. The sun has long left me. But I see, I see the tomb, shining through darkness, two stars above it!

It is open, I know it is. There is something there, I know there is. Lights call, they call like two kids!

Oh, by God! They're just kids!

They shine, they shine, but where's their heart?

There's something moaning in the tomb, what is it? Oh, God, don't let me know! There's something moaning there, I swear.

And the children, they call.

They smile.

Babel, Babel, who are you? What crawls in your palaces panting like an old man? Whose is that wheezing asthmatic voice? Children, do you know?

By God, poor heartless children! They know, they know everything. And yet they smile! They smile as he comes, his arm covered in blood. He comes unhurriedly, straight to me, straight to my heart.



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Paulo Moreira

Brazilian pharmacist in loved with History, Fantasy and Ecofiction. Author of The Blood of the Goddess. I write about nature in poems and fantasy stories.