viernes, 29 de diciembre de 2023

#31. STATION

 

Chris Candidovsky

The wet grit of the watch slips through my fingers,

An exhausting, chaotic choreography.

The stations fill and empty,

With soulless trains, in a trance.

The pendulum of time swings up and down.

Listen, their chant remains the same,

Its music is an unresolved melody,

Of what has been and what became.

No hay comentarios:

Publicar un comentario

#43. OLIVE TREE

  In the labyrinth of my mind, darkness and light intermingle. The past is a shadow, the present a battle. But on the horizon shines a light...