Hard to believe where it went down
A red telephone booth, the enclosed kind
Worn and smelling of decades of use
ER or VR fixed in iron on the wood
And where it stood: the Channel steps
Down at the sea at Brighton, yes
There's one still be to found, still standing there
They must have left it for the tourist look
At the boardwalk mouth of Brighton pier.
And it was spring and sunshine as I watched
The indo-anglian families from the hotels
The old and toothless hangers-on
Who sleep under the stars at the low tide
Pale London lovers in their innocence
Pass by, with candyfloss and cigarettes
With jellied eels and biltong
Bears and foaming beer
From the shies and rides. I called
From the air-deprived confines
With card and coins in hand, across the sea
To fasten tight again the narrow strand
That holds our hearts to us, the line
We do not mean to fall, unwind
When the moment comes, we cried
We found the words that fasten up
The knot, the tie that makes it bind.
How old the narrow box, how obsolete
The ways we still communicate
Remain in their insistency, the stubbornness
That floods the line, that will not let
Love die, before the end of purchased time
In just the place, in its confine
The ages left for us, there by
The sea, the pier, the stony beach
The setting sun, the crowds dispersing
Anxious for some other kinds of fun
To make the day complete. I watch them leave
I'll stay, until the final light recedes
Hearing your voice, the plans
Entreaties, vows, existence spans
All echo here, knowing this
If I can reach you from this booth
Then I can reach you anywhere.
Against us there were frowns, and miles
A world that didn't want a joy to live
The cruelties of arbitrary life
Converged in their conspiracy
To pull these little fingers well apart
But still there stands above the beach
One weather-beaten box of wood
That holds the line and stands upright
Where once again and for a while
We did not fall from day to night
Into a frozen sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem