A Ponte

The bridge of the big city points
Points to the problem we try to hide
The bridge of the big city is just the tip
Of what we don't see, of what we don't see

From the top of the bridge, a man wanting to jump
Under the bridge, another wanting to eat
In the middle of the bridge, a car trying to pass
And inside the car, a man trying to live

The bridge of the big city points
Points to the problem we try to hide
The bridge of the big city is just the tip
Of what we don't see, of what we don't see

From the top of the bridge
I see the vastness of the city
I see a crane
I see the contrast
Between skyscrapers and slums
In the photograph it reveals
And what the government reveals
And how much money is taken
To build such a work

From the bridge to there, from the bridge to here
There are two worlds that the bridge separates
The bridge is the face of inequality
That causes fascination and repulsion
The bridge that pulses in the city's heartbeat
And denounces the calamity
And welcomes what society expels
Under the bridge I see waste
Of human life, of urban life
I see its remains, in this river there's a lot of dirt
From the top of the bridge I see the project of an architect
In front I see the horizon
And the gray clouds covering the Sun
Before it rises

The bridge is the canvas that paints the social landscape
With truth
And what the bridge reveals
Is the most faithful postcard of the city

The bridge of the big city points
Points to the problem we try to hide
The bridge of the big city is just the tip
Of what we don't see, of what we don't see