How to find the way back
by subway, streetcar, bus...
Can a hill disappear
or the stream in a park?
The morning's scent of rolls,
the sound of skates at dusk
Laundry roofs, coalbin chutes,
wagons, carts, iron stoops...
Like footprints in the snow,
the memories fall and drift.
I walk, I look, I ask,
a shadow in the past.
I ran to say goodbye
to the last railway train
Whose old, musty freight cars
were creaking at the joints.
In it, tons of paper,
unpublished manuscripts
Heading for the graveyard
like passengers turned ghosts.