smooth bundles of silence split
the dense air of the station
the thin light beam filters the dormant faces
of the passengers accustomed to the perpetual
solitude of the wagons passing through the tunnels

there you can never know whether
the thoughts flow has the consistence
so necessary for passing over
the mere need to exist

an extreme desire
to have a humble but intense existence
among the wagons with the mechanics’ sweat
instilled into axles, screws and buffers
can be detected in their pulse

so quiet is this human hustle
as life seems to have stopped being
a pack of needs, hysterias and hopes
invisibly transferring into
the uniform, imperturbable sound
of the train running in between stations