THE ROAD

by Marin Sorescu


I'm walking along the railroad,
The straightest road
Possible,
Thinking, my hands behind me.


A train comes from behind,
At great speed,
A train that has never heard of me.


This train will never reach me
- I call Zenon for witness -
For I will always have an advance
In comparison with the brainless things.


Or, even if, violently,
It runs me over,
There will always be a man
To walk before it,
Thoughtful,
His hands behind him,
Walking just like me, now,
Before the black monster
That approaches at a frightening speed
And that will NEVER reach me.



(Translated from Romanian by Brigitta Daniela Buda)