Garden-variety gardens,
bridges like any other,
People-like people
crowding streets
From earth to sky
filling horizons,
from eye to eye
Nothing there
for Antiquity's appetite
Nothing to quench
History's desire
From Kabul to Kiev
any city, any hamlet
of any run-of-the-mill
size or shape
Unless you become
a Kyoto someday
making it to the list
of someone's favourite
Your future is bleak
as any Hiroshima,
any Nagasaki
But then again,
there once was
a Nalanda
that couldn't escape
the fire of fate
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