In this black garden Of this carrion light, There is a suspension Of motion and stillness That hollows the night. In this black garden Of heartbreak and wonder, The banks are all ablaze, Self-satisfied As they plunder. I am alone on this hill; These vistas are certain. I may be frightened by the sounds Of history crying as it drowns, But I will pull back the curtain. In this black garden I once called the selfish city, I try to calculate the anguish And the anger and all the aspirations Of the millions who have lived here And will live in desperation, Who are careful and are careless - Whom I have cheated - Who thought the swindle that I offered Was a salve... I am alone on this hill; These vistas are certain. I may be frightened by the sounds Of history crying as it drowns, But I will pull back the curtain.