Finally I reached there.
u n i o n t u r n p i k e.
A subway station somewhere in Brooklyn,
New York.
And right between those graphite walls,
between those engravings,
I could see.
union turnpike.
Right between those words,
as if something written, which
I cannot see but
sure can comprehend.
It was evening,
and as I stopped to take a breath
at the station,
I saw those graphite, ceramic floors
talk to me.
About...
u n i o n t u r n p i k e.
There, there...
right between those words,
lied my peace,
that was looking for me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem