Out of the smog-shrouded city.
After the brash shop-windows of the town,
The endless dreary suburbs.
Mocking laughter down blank alleys,
Wrong turnings, too, and steady patient walking
Counting streetlamps,
But now we are here.
A misty journey. But not all mist:
Sometimes the scent of blossom from a darkened garden
Or breath of spring from rain-wet city park;
Often the smile and help of strangers,
And the hidden, certain presence of a mutual Friend:
This and these have led us on until at last
Now we are here.
A long way,
A long time,
Blundering together or apart across the dim-lit town.
Hope and disappointment, longing and laughter and tears:
But now we have come to this warm and lighted place,
And you are here,
And we are home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem