Poetry Archives

(From the train between Bologna and Milan, second class.)

Opposite me two Germans snore and sweat.
 Through sullen swirling gloom we jolt and roar.
We have been here for ever:  even yet
 A dim watch tells two hours, two aeons, more.
The windows are tight-shut and slimy-wet
 With a night’s foetor.  There are two hours more;
Two hours to dawn and Milan; two hours yet.
Opposite me two Germans sweat and snore. . . .

One of them wakes, and spits, and sleeps again.
 The darkness shivers.  A wan light through the rain
Strikes on our faces, drawn and white.  Somewhere
 A new day sprawls; and, inside, the foul air
Is chill, and damp, and fouler than before. . . .
Opposite me two Germans sweat and snore.