EVEN THERE,
where
the stretched-out
long and burning hands of iron
are chopped off by the machine
I'll sleep soundly
and without getting caught in a nightmare
as usual.
All your words and gestures may fade
but I'll remember you;
in an endless summer
the sense of seasons will be lost
and yet I'll recognize

those fragrant days
when your fresh youth blooms in my arms.
A deadening noise will be all around
and my heart like melted incandescent iron
will flow towards you
in numberless streams:
and quietly, you will mold it

into happiness.
Then one night
your blood and
your heart and
your love
will grow heavy like the steel
and when I shall call you
from beneath the railway trains
calling people and coal
from behind the lamp posts
keeping watch over tranquil towns:
the earth will be dumb
like dark and heavy fear;
and the over hanging sky
will be still like death,
my innumerable parts will wait
for you
at the machine-gate.