Looking down at my tired feet,
Steady on the asphalt of the platform,
I turn up my collar as to greet
The invincible, undeviating windstorm.

Now I see a hundred-meter long
Segment of the railway embankment.
Seems as if it isn’t going on,
Mystifying, good-for-nothing fragment.

Passive and generic station lights
Outline the visible existence;
All of the external is the night’s,
Hidden by the darkness at a distance.

As the wind is straightening my lashes,
Blowing tears out of my eyes,
I distinguish two remote flashes –
My dispassionately flickering surprise.

Is it just a fantasy or no?
I continue peering and – yes!
Drawing near steadily, they grow –
Lights of the belated night express.

Half-a-minute later I desert
This disheartening inhospitable place,
Finding myself at the resort
Of your most affectionate embrace.

We will ride the train through the dawn,
Right into the leaves of late October;
And the moment never will be gone,
Love will hardly leave us feeling sober.