Our world is like a train with an endless track
It passes by fast like a shooting star
It passes the mountains of hopes and valleys of sorrow
On its way into a foggy meadow
Why with so much speed?
The passengers are between two stops: birth and death
Each passenger occupies time with a different endeavor
Some are sad because they have a middle seat
Some are happily chatting with neighbors
Some enlightened ones stare out of the window and wonder
About the fate of the train
About the previous passengers
About love -- a ray of light in the blinding darkness
About our "hearts" -- though full of thousands of defeats and losses it holds on to dreams
Where am I going on this train? What will become of me?
Deep in my thoughts suddenly I hear the whistle of the train
Warning me of my arrival...
I wrote this poem on Sunday It was inspired from a poem by Feraydoun Moshiri (it's not a direct translation as I last read it a year or two ago).