Voices of the kids
Jingle behind the fence
Indian summer

Familiar face –
Someone’s son, or maybe grandson –
Road to the train station

The westward sun –
And in the east, the voices on the beach
Fading out

Boarding the commuter train –
The next forty minutes
Only mine

Field of vision.
From all the directions
Black waste grounds

Bumblebees behind the window
Letting them through me –
Words of a stranger

= Translated by the ULITKA =