1. The flight
No frills
No meals
The suitcase, commodious and bright
Filing out from the carriage
Into the probing light
Of a Polish summer
A shower,
A sleep
A walk
And then, the trip
But first, a smoke
An interval of ease
2. The flight
No frills
No meals
The suitcase, small and tight
Filing out from the carriage
Into the probing light
Of a Polish summer
A walk
A shower
A sleep
And then, a trip
And last, the smoke
Rising above the trees
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem