The Train of My Life
It departed at 8: 32PM on October 1st 1963
from a maternity hospital
in a small town in North Albania,
stopped at a crèche to collect some cries,
toys, ink spilled on shirts and trousers,
a broken pencil.
Other stops included
dull classes with mountains of books,
copies, fights, loves, hates, mistakes,
first kisses, white dust from the chalk,
lost shoes on football pitches.
Then it stopped again
at different workplaces
where the head was not needed at all, just the arms,
because the bosses were the ones
who were always right.
This train passed through many
strange countries and cities,
regretful, unable to enjoy
the thrills and luxury that those places held.
During a long stop on a rainy island,
everything—feelings, memories, the body—
began to rust away beneath an endless rainfall.
The train will move on soon,
scheduled to arrive at? ? : ? ? ,
on an uncertain day of an uncertain month
during the 21st century,
but I hope not soon,
at a not decided yet graveyard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem