Without hooting and signals this wonderful train goes out of the track
And it seems searching the homeland,
I see a ragged stationmaster holds a rusty red lantern very blurred, who wants to stop me at a far end?
The station called ' The death beyond the Mystery.'
I dedicate this poem to the poetess Susie.Suheir.Gharib in gratitude.
Excellent, my friend. You present the reader with a puzzle: is this poetry or prose? It is poetry. Of the highest order! The momnt captured and rolled like a ball. 'The overwhelmiong question' Do not ask what it is, just keep writing.
There is nothing more nostalgic than the whistle of a train. All of those who have a ticket to ride will reach home eventually. Perhaps, poets will be given some preference. We can always hope so. Beautiful poem, Nimal. Warm regards, Sandra
Nimal, this is haunting and lovely. Might I suggest that you shortedn your lines. You might like the way it looks on the page that way...and it might be more pleasing to the ear. I like the thems and the picture of the 'ragged stationmaster.' I also love the title. It took me right in. Raynette
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thanks, Nimal. A beautiful piece, indeed. Very meaningful for me too. It reminds me of a short story I studied as an undergraduate entitled 'The Signalman', probably by Thomas Hardy. That piece left an indelible mark on my mind, and here is your piece evoking a memory. I love it when pieces conjure up literary allusions. My warmest Regards, Susie xx.