Without a moment’s hesitation
I’ll buy a ticket in advance
And go light-hearted to the station.
O let me go, don’t spoil my chance.
The chance which shouldn’t be allowed
For those who like to steal the show.
Not me – I’ll vanish in the crowd,
Without being lost forever, though.
The air at night is dense and humid
For flakes of snow to reach the ground;
And scurrying people – let’s assume it –
Appear delusively hidebound.
The intercity coach will hurry
With all those people in its womb –
Across the night – recluse and blurry –
Towards the day which seems to loom.
At dawn there won’t be any memory
Of faces nor of licence plates –
All mottled and forlorn in reverie,
When Tube of Emptiness dilates.