New Babels Tower

It's my frirs translate: ;')

World round us come to be smaller,
Continents are on distance of hand,
Airplanes how with childish tales,
They over head more more and more quickly slashing sky.
People continually wander with large, loud pack,
From promiscuity of speech are be hear one voice
It was builtsecond , larger Babels Tower
Who remember that, first tower chance?
World shrinks how pierced balloon,
People also diminishes fast together with him,
Terrified own small range,
repeatedly loneliness in this mass.
From here frantic escapes empty way,
How somewhere for turning would be something
And these poems written for no one,
And these canvases full of nostalgic stains.
Babels Tower,
Beautiful,
but inhuman land,
More and more further,
Or then advance,
or then mistake,
More and more further
More and more harder
to run away from here