he was careful in looking for the words
to make up his thoughts
he hangs his head on the railing of the train
closes the glass window
looks at the flashes of each passing scene
his eyes cannot wink
wide to the realities unfolding
against the speed of pictures and events
the sound of the honks and the ambulance
the trains on the byways of his mind
the destination finally arrives at the station
where everything becomes still
where everyone goes out takes the exit
to every door
and then he raises his hands to the faces that meet him
five just five of those sea of faces
and he wakes up
and he knows this is but an imagination on one of his journeys
for they are all dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem