Seen from far
By the awaiting passengers so much eagerly
For possible seats if any and uncertain destinations to reach,
But in the meantime
The train whistling and coming,
Coming, coming speedily,
Getting visible and approaching
With a rattle,
The lines jerking,
The halt shaking
And the coal particles flying,
Smokes swirling,
The bogies swinging and shaking
And the train stopping, pausing a bit,
Slowing down
For the passengers to get down
And to board
At the nondescript halt
And again beginning to shake and jolt
With a jerk
As for a re-start and a racing down
And the engine gathering speed,
Rolling up
And the racing bogies again
Vanish they into the far off sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem