Zigzagged streets and crisscrossed lanes,
Brick walls and stained window panes,
Flaneuring down alleys in vain,
Strewn with human follies and pains.

Concrete towers with colours pale,
Old mansions do tell a tale
Of history written with wood and nail,
Of Sinners strong and idols frail.

Life teems here with eager zest,
So does death, the final rest.
Between them, a game of jest
Being played in this growing nest.

Hopes rise with the sun, gloom reigns sunset.
Fates and lucks duel...