I am now at the Library of Gävle, Sweden, gazing through the window to see a water pump fitted inside a river to pump water. Then I wrote this short poem.

With a pump water has been tossed up
In a steady flow they reached a point
Beyond which they couldn´t rise further
They have lost steam to push up in the air
Not reinforcing anymore in mutual union
But falling apart like Modern Somalia
Leaving a trail of despair in the wind
As colors of their past keep fleeting
Within the crumble of these droplets
I see a rainbhow of hope glaring upon