I
On a crowded dock faces sketched, some indifference
stand lost. Peering
the end of the world on light boards, resigned
souls haunt the foggy docks. Life here
pours its flood of deserters. These marginal
crowds evaporate gently blow
When the trains on these things light, they
envolent their lives far from outdated.
I stick my face against the cool glass. Fatigue is a hissing bitter in my head. Through my dilated pupils, blurred the flood flows of people and never set my eyes. I sink slowly into a grave silence. The buzz is inconsistent Wharf distant, yet it still resonates in the empty shell of my body perfectly. Already I no longer belong to this day. Yet a glass of me, two millimeters in dirty glass of my body, a world still survives. Twenty people could stand there and stroke my face. But I do not exist, already I'm going.
The train breaks his chains in a noisy effort, and slowly oozes out of this daily dark. Faces tablets parade and mingle, they are diluted by long streaks on the glass. The train accelerates. I close my eyes and imagine the world go by and changes to the window. The anchor is up, life got under way. Some effects vain in a bag, the rest in agony in a past sedentary. Station shrinks behind me, and the daily tablet slowly suffocating in the station disappears. Some nostalgic
vapors rise into the twilight. Sometimes I think they call my name. I turn around and then leaned out the window. On the platform the crowd resumed its hum. The disappearance does not save from oblivion.
I rush enthusiastically into the dark of the night and cry hoarse choking my thought train.
The overnight train ride, relentless,
Its wheels of metal in the cold night
tirelessly grind the black hours,
He swallows, insatiable, the desert night,
Crossing the black wall that rises before him,
He breaks one by one the chains of the past.
He rushes into the void
In free fall toward the uncertain days
A delicious giddiness fills my body.
willing Prisoner of flight time, I travel
blind And I'm helpless From witness
battle being played out at the border for days.
spectra tenacious clinging to the wheels of the train, yet ... We are accelerating
The wind tears the spectra of translucent shreds
faced bare branches of trees to sleep.
The long standoff point a finger towards the future.
whistle pierces the night A
"The Road". I fall asleep
II
I sleep adrift on the raging weather,
Sometimes I play on an island the castaways.
I awakened with a start, and looking for landmarks,
The ground, sky, walls that are faced once, But
fled the scene and the scene escapes
And it opens a new random trap
Towards new fever and dizziness to other,
And time is accelerating, and the dream we freezes.
eyelids open onto the moors fearful unlikely. It feels foreign, almost like home. A few more miles to daydreams. It will eventually happen, this country will be recognized as familiar. Recognize before knowing, believing in the existence of this place. It must necessarily be better elsewhere later and later. The band
landscape is always held. I'm looking eyes graceful passage closed, the air that I had in mind but could not identify. So I go down. The successive sets come one after the other surround my reflection in the window of the car. He dons, skeptical and dissatisfied, forests and lakes, brownfields, villages and superficial dormitory.
The tables are painted around my face sometimes awaken in me dreams buried. Their faces twisted up from the depths of time. Sometimes it is a voice, a smell, anonymous, and that arises out of the ground before me. And then they die back in my memory raw.
from port to port, from shipwreck in chimera
I float between two lives, carried by currents dream. Some crazy
stops on islands improbable, impossible worlds where
attack me and grab me.
The tremor, rocking, kicking the
The antics, the sighs, altercations,
new languages that spring,
When I encountered new docks ...
Life and wild licks cold metal walls of the cars when we
skirt too close to the shores inhabited ...
warm in my cocoon metamorphosis I, indifferent.
Nothing goes, nothing comes out, some fleeting impressions.
In the heat of the night train, a heavy broth fills me
and within my essence macerated in rebirth.
The night train accelerates,
Other ghosts hanging from trees still black
I renounce one by one, while my past away, And
throw overboard, exposing my bare skin.
The long standoff point a finger towards the future. Growling and ruminant
"Farther! . I go back to sleep
Alarm and III arrive
To:
Soon the dawn rises on the horizon trembling. The steep valleys
and sharp peaks
Tear the black sky that bleeds blood livid.
In these wounds appear light hearted,
orange and blue arrows, pierce my eyelids.
The light descends along the hillsides and clear
crawling to me she cracked open my eyes.
The train stops in silence thinking.
So last time, here is finally the day. I have no choice, I must go down and face the dawn wilderness. I could scream me that the birth process, but in what language should I cry? And who could hear me ... I is not here yet, I no longer exist there. The world under my eyes has ceased turn. Roulette ball stops and freezes. Here's the winning number of the day. Can not remember what I bet.
I put one foot on the dock, land shall not fail, I arrived. The air that surrounds me in cool breeze confirms the end of the night. I lift my eyes to my shoes, and looks up. Bravely I decide my fate to watch again. Dazed
, someone on the dock waiting for me, his face appears in front of mine when I looked up. He stares at me. I look right and left, nobody else. I look good.
He recognizes me ... How is it? I do not know me more myself ...
He speaks to me now, it tells me my name, he told me where I am, I'll say y. In his eyes I can make my new face. I like it here, I seem nice and fresh. From his mouth I hear words that I said ... We are already known to us?
I dream of him, his face is in me,
But in the morning I still believe he fled.
The night train just could never far,
And he brought me back, drugged, in my bed empty and cold.
The crowd jostles me, I'm awake, I was tugging
hand, we laugh they laugh, I shook hands
friend, sleeping, faithless,
the streets who were born of this sleep too heavy.
Should I force myself to believe that these joys are real?
Do not let go my hand, you'll evaporator!
The night train falls asleep, exhausted, smoking, and its axles
blush cool slowly. My cheeks livid
rob them some hot new colors
Childhood makes me pretty complexion.
someone waiting on the platform.
Will he leave again tomorrow? Are you
another call?
On the platform a metallic voice sounds.
"Terminus! "She roared
in a universal language.
0 comments:
Post a Comment