Irsk. Noise above rail yard Poem by Olli Heikkonen
Irsk. Noise above rail yard
Irsk. Noise above rail yard
like grinding teeth. I shrug,
the train switches tracks.
Car after car, day after day.
Thus your days are well-lit night.
The nights, grinding of teeth.
Irkutsk. Joints squeal, days swoosh past,
on the steppe a yurt collapses.
That's where home is, Irkutsk,
the train cars like exhaled air.
There, in the warmth of breathing
beneath dense fur.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 5:04:59 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
