I wouldn't change the leaves and the grass,

the animals frolicing in the sea, 

so delicate as the soil,

beneath my feet with water thinned.

change comes in the in the concrete soil,

change comes in the hard smell metal,

which lies on every surface,

fed by humans and denied by the Earth.

Change happens to beams,

and skyscrapers that touch the clouds of justice,

and solid contraptions that stop natural flourishment.

I change,

for the sake of my country,

and for the sake of the Earth.