This world no longer feels like home

A flourishing city and happy people.
People who seem to be so happy
In the city growing like any living being.
Seems like a common picture,
Seems like a scene to be found anywhere else.
And people growing happy
In a happily blooming city.
Sometimes I see. See something.
And feel… Feel like it is going to rain
With bloody dreadful drops.
Do you see? Do you feel?
Our flourishing happy city is nothing,
But a cemetery growing with tombstones.
And every time I see these happy people,
When I gaze upon this blooming city from a hill,
I see this living death and walking, talking corpses.
I see them laughing, I see them rising.
Rising and leaving their concrete tombs.
Concrete buildings which look just exactly as tombstones.
Unlucky, wretched, petty happiness.
And horrors...
Appalling, shocking terror!
The one coming up with a baby’s cunning smile on his lips.
Since even terror can come wearing an innocent smile.
Look! Look high up in the sky to see the sun!
To see and understand,
And feel this dreadful scent of sorry sight!
The sun… It warms no more.
And blackish ravens, whose knelling,
We foolishly mistook for songbirds’ praise
And anthems of the Spring.