We went on calmly with sleeping nights.
A train sound closes in on our tranquility.
Three red arches of imperial construction
Sat there morosely with their nay sayings.
Where are they that had said we would do it
And disappeared with no to their resolves
Ghosts that they are, not even whimpers.

The train comes in ,iterating our existence
Mine and of the red railway bridge that sat
Under the train ,under the weight of history.
Down there there is this coal under our feet
A black coal of negation, a fear in the belly
In our existence, gathered in hollow pits
That a river fails to fulfill with its lazy sand.


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