Leptis Magna poetry

BRIEFLY ABOUT LEPTIS MAGNA

A bloody hard job.
Columns and stones as far as the eye can see.
Stacked on each other, block on block,
taken from all corners of the empire,
measured and weighed by experts,
cut by tormented slaves.
And finally put in place to give homage to an emperor.

As if there was something to make a number out of.
Surely a tyrant.

And us others?
Dragged into this noman's land,
where the trash still is kept.

Perhaps once a spectacle for Gods,
for those who could see,
but today nothing more than a stress factor.
Yes, you heard correctly.
A factor of stress.

Only the guide's last reply hangs over the past landscape:
Beautiful girls.
Nice, white legs.