The Underground is a kaleidoscope:
at each station, a new shake; and
according to your mood
every shake’s a magnification
of your love of humanity; or
confirms your worst fears;
shake
I’m sitting with the article
I wrote at home, hunched
over the keyboard
in a smaller world
now I’m revising it in private
but in this public space
of this kaleidoscope; it’s good this way.
shake
A lad sits down next to me. After a minute
I feel he’s discreetly reading what I’m editing.
I love this game. I tilt the paper imperceptibly
so he can read it better..
careful not to give the game away..
shake
He’s interested; he’s not reading idly; now
he’s not hiding his reading any more;
now, he can’t restrain himself at
the top of the page as I turn over..
his eyes shine. He stubs his finger at a quote
‘Meditation makes me feel more myself…’
‘That’s it! That’s it! ’ he says; as if
I didn’t believe my own quote..
shake
He’s out the next station; that’s
all he needed. All I needed. All it needed.
How bright the underground kaleidoscope
shines now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem