A strange place, houses are as big as castles
tall forbidding wall on top, broken glass set
in cement; gates that can withstand a tank.
A lush valley, but no bird songs, presumably
the occupants of this scary place want peace.
I sat on my scooter for an hour in the hope of
casting a glimpse of the people inside, but no.
Each palace was like little islets cut off from
the world, here they need no one and live in
splendid isolation. But just as I was to leave
a black hearse pulled up outside a gate that
slowly glided open - even the rich must die.
Prisoners of wealth, I ought to take one of them
out one day, so he can see a bit of real life
before the somber hearse arrives.