| On the left side … again … | 
| black fish are being bred … - | 
| cultivated in vast amount | 
| Harboured by enormous tubs, all of them made of glass, | 
| they are resembling massive moving planes; | 
| one of these even has the shape of a gigantic hearse | 
| could this be some sort of restaurant perhaps? | 
| Oh, stupid boy, won’t you turn around? | 
| Don’t you hear the sound | 
| of the tocsin ringing in the air?! | 
| Climbing up the slope of stairs | 
| taking two steps at once … - | 
| the vats are rising as he gets higher. | 
| Growing steadily now on both sides of the path | 
| visciously filling up every space. | 
| Only a few meters away from him … - | 
| they are joining above his head, | 
| like an archway they are building … a passage; | 
| through its transparent walls he can see the black fish | 
| moving: | 
| like a tunnel, all organic and dark, | 
| a black mouth waiting, veiled in hungry architecture, | 
| quite perfectly disguised … - | 
| yet, (t)his premature entry would be (entirely) | 
| unauthorised | 
| Oh, stupid boy …, turn around, | 
| this place is most unhealthy ground! | 
| Don’t you hear the sound of the tocsin … ringing in the air?! |