These are the Gardens of the Machine Culture;
They are peaceful, proud, serene.
No cars, few roads.
Transportation of goods or people
Has no importance.
The cycleopean rocks
Are there to protect the factories,
The trees clean the air,
The factories make music.
A low humming, which fills the air.
At night, the cicadas sing their song,
Accompanied by winged transistors.
The song of the Mood Organ Factory.
Nearby the Clavichord Manufactury,
Which emits slight clanking noises.
Of people, there are few.
They do not go moving about.
They know that they must do their work.
Like the trees, the rocks, the factories.
Their work: to read old manuscripts.
The old manuscripts are stored
In climatized libraries.
Libraries in the disguise of rocks.
This is where the humans spend
The longest parts of their days.
Only in the evening mists
One can see them having their strolls.
Very soon, when the night comes,
They go to their quarters,
Where they sleep,
A quiet humming noise singing their dreams.