Poor acousticians

By Gáspár Nagy. Prize goes to person who can best explain what this poem/stream of thoughts is about. Original.

Poor acousticians!

  -- Random supplement to Marek Nowakowski's stories --

Here they sit amongst us, stroll in our city, maybe sometimes read out of boredom, or watch a shop window with a telescope, stopping bored at the aching points of the city and say: HEY-HO! then twice, each time louder, so it can be heard, almost felt, this HEY-HO at the acoustic junctions, and it shall be as it is written in the good book of law, since the usual tone of disagreement becomes louder from these shouts, and as it must, this SOUND obeying the laws of physics, already makes its way along a separate corridor, it reaches its destination, gushes forth, flows from where the telescope, where it nests, sits, stands the pain, suspicion, fear, and what not... verily, it's already puffing there, like some self-satisfied, punctual locomotive reaching its final station, whereupon they study the various acoustic possibilities, seek confidential answers to confidential questions, pose such questions as to lead the fish into its net, for instance what can one do with this flopping about, if we avidly want that it have some use as well, and that the desire for the highest degree of vibration and punishment should be unquenchable, so that our telescopic, poor acousticians may feel: their existence is not pointless and that behind their boring hours, the city dwellers will see telling costumes, it will be good to keep order in the city with eyes and ears, to quieten our cities into silence, then everything starts from the beginning, but it is from the same book that we make the city untouchable, gaseous and most of all, noiseless.