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NIGHT PLANES
Night planes fly past invisibly,
Snow falls on the city street,
At one AM they turn off the dim street lamps,
And the last tramcars disappear...
Only
drowsy buildings remain,
Trees are dark,
but the heart is hot
Like a warm clod of living earth.
These days like years
pass slowly
These days of ill-defined fog, of snows,
Breakfasts, lunches, monotonous events...
But listen—
every so often at night
Tragic keys turn in the gates,
And specters of unknown
recollections
Rise through the rattle of night planes.
The shattered window of a forgotten school
Will shine in the heart of the city—or maybe it’s a cathedral.
Or the squares of shattered streets,
Or the clearings of winter forests...