Dream or Reality?

I wrote this poem because my stay in America seems like a dream to me.

I've been here in America six months now
And still don't know: dream or reality?
Wherever I look, I find something to marvel.
And is New York the same as Warsaw now?

This is a city just like any other,
But every city has its own appeal
Because it grows in different architecture
And it's not repetitiously the same.

New York, New York has great skyscraper buildings
That reach right into heaven right up high,
Like mountain-peaks they ply the atmosphere,
Their beauty quite astonishes our eyes.

Tall buildings glistening with glass and steel--
Americans invented this new form.
They must have minds that are extraordinary,
For this is reminiscent of a dream.

The subway rattles underneath the street and
Brings millions to their jobs in just a flash.
An airplane leaves a braided trail above us,
And we admire the marvel in the sky.

The streets abound with different ethnic peoples,
With various-colored skin from around the world.
You see what's beautiful in people better
If black and white and in-between abound.

The black girl, Dana, has a lovely color,
11cr pink mulatto friend is pretty too.
Each woman here is beautiful and cherished,
Including our white Agata, a Pole.

The city's gorgeous, and so are its women,
At every step it glistens marvelously.
Reality or dream? Unfortunately
I still don't know, it all feels like a dream.

New York, January 1994              Kaziu Borucki