In Berlin's heart, where shadows sway,
Berghain stands, both night and day.
Its walls echo with beats profound,
In darkness where the lost are found.
But in this realm of pulse and thrill,
There lies a secret, tranquil still.
Beyond the thump of bass and drum,
A piscine where whispers softly hum.
Beneath the strobe's electric glow,
Pisciners glide with graceful flow.
In napping room, they find their peace,
As rush and subjects cease.