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I saw from the window of my ecstasy
New York was lying underneath
Like old widow still wearing black
City of hopes and desires as I heard
From the winds of my town
Was ready to shine my shoes
And strangle me with its silky smell
Heaven was ready to be lodged
But smile was erased from my face
When the sparkling sand of snow
Mixed in the tingling whirl of air
muttered some words of dying glare
and whispered in my ear
I am twenty years late
To catch even that so called train
Of triumph, about which I heard
From the winds of my town.
New York, New York where should I go now
There is no flight to Havana from here
You scream but why don’t you speak
New York.