Bleak

In the crowded streets

Sums up on lengths and laughs

a torn paper and burning with incense

cigarette butts know more what it is

Neither the milking dust and layered dirt on shirts

and hanging veils

Small rockets and deafening fireworks

One more knife to be sharpened 

and one last tangy scent to taste

T'is once will let you blink

If you'll knew, no one will know, either