Millions of people, vermilion temples
Is being there enough? Memories will be rough

The yellow, red and green ceiling of the market disappears day after day and bit by bit
The golden pavilion’s reflection will fade when you turn your back on it

Shoot less, eat more. Shoes waiting at the door
Since you can’t take any pictures of this land, you’ll steal everything, you’ll get everything else

Who’s taking good care of the thousand armed statues, the white paint on the walls?
Have one last look at the hillside, at the platform with no nails, at the wooden halls

An expensive espresso, no it can’t be so
Broken down, unable, it made you a cannibal
Angry at tourists who come to your country and take hundreds of photos of a single tree
I’m only interested in what’s not mine, ingest all I can before there’s no more time