Mother, I sit by my window for hours on end
And watch the long trains rumble past.
Some are dark and journey tediously
No doors, no windows, no shining lamps,
Slowly they move: like huge elephants
That move like shadows in the shadowy dark.

Sometimes a train comes flashing past
With many windows lit by lamps
That dance and whirl with movement swift.
A marriage procession with music loud,
Shrill whistles that rise above the din
Or the rhythmic” beat of wheels revolving fast.

On hot afternoons you go to sleep
And when dizzy heat swoons all the world,
Even the crows doze and forget to caw,
The dog lies in the shade with hanging tongue,
I watch for hours and still the tireless trains
March on and on along their iron road.

Sometimes at night in my sleep I hear
The low distant rumble of the train;
I rub my eyes and sit upon my bed
And beneath the light of the flickering moon
Moves the long shadowy outline far away
Like a huge serpent crawling through the night.

Where do all those trains go day and night?
You say they bore their way through the hills,
They roar over bridges across mighty streams,
They crash through forests and vast plains,
But at the end of their restless journeying
Where do they go and finally take rest?