Be very careful not to step on beggars down there.
The first playground of patience this: murky haze, paddling in the slush.
Persons authorised by decree, who are all acquaintances of yours,
are collecting extra fares up top. Before long, order shall prevail.
The first carriage is empty. There are plenty of final footholds left
and the hellishly white train merrily slides away. The fifth or sixth stop
will be the one, about which not even frozen bone-marrow,
only memory will want to know. The request-stop terminus.
Here escalators are full as well, everyone lines up to go down,
all wilt away as they recede below. The air is fresh as you leave
the station hall, you look for a cab and, in the distance,
spring is caressing the highlands of Antarctica.
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Author:
Péter Sebestyén (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 26th, 2019 09:04
- Comment from author about the poem: Translated from Hungarian by Leslie Kery.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments1
BRIAN HERE ~ Good Evening PETER ~ welcome to MPS. ~ thanks for your first Poem. Ive never been to Antarctica (I have been to Hungary) but I hav been to Alaska and yiour Poem eminded me of that ! The AIR was fresh and Spring was caressing the ice fields of Alaska ! Thanks for sharing ~ more please in ENGLISH ! MPS works by reading & commenting on each others Poetry. Please check our site. Angela is my Fincee !
Yours BRIAN & ANGELA 💙🧡💙
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