We will stay behind
when the coal cars
heavily loaded
with the rubble of war
shunt
We will remain behind
when car after car
is crammed
with ore for the fathers,
coke for the sons,
ashes for the grandsons
With mirrored windows
the Joy Express
flashes out of our world.
On hidden toes
the pigeons pester us
while the mice
in the railbed
pass on the message
where is it going?
Russia blasts
a corridor.
Poland flings open
her door.
Only we remain behind
blinking and bewildered
where are going?
where, where?
At the lost property
office
we crouch between forgotten
signals
but can't escape hearing
who takes off
when the whistle shrills.

Translated by Dorothy Porter