With many faces, sharing a path and many destinations
Swallowed and puffy, charming and attractive, many are
Where life goes from this platform? where ends?
Yellow grass on the edge of the railroad tells stories
Of travelers, lost in mist and fog of a clear day
On my route, a train passes everyday
At 8 o’clock, conductor is lost in his dreams,
All automated, no siren at crossing, and the risk is mine and yours.
Who will deliver the news when the car passes the crossing
and no horn cries Of the last warning of a lost destination?
I stare in the eyes of passengers, and do not see but nothingness
Rushed toward a point in time and space.
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