By Train In Europe Poem by Ananta Madhavan
By Train In Europe
Fleet was our transit through the day,
The traction smooth in ebb and sway -
The passing scene was passing gay.
The forest ran in streaks of green,
A drawing which a child in spleen
Had ruined with a crayon screen.
The meadows moved with slower gait,
Panting to catch their breath and wait
For others to accelerate.
Fields, like dealt-out cards, spun round,
Ricocheted and fled the ground,
Complaining of the harsh rebound.
Telegraph-poles stood scanning verse
With hills and dales of sagging wires
In metres that were far from terse.
Another metre in the train
Beat non-stop trochees in my brain
To destination windowpane.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/19/2024 1:47:59 PM # 1.0.0.1119
A flashing glimpse of scenes as viewed from a moving train! Naturally the meadows which are spread extensively will seem as moving with a slower gait! Unlike most of your other poems, you have made it rhyming verse .Fields, like dealt-out cards, spun round, Ricocheted and fled the ground, Complaining of the harsh rebound............... Beautiful description!
My sincere thanks, Poet-Friend Valsa, a gift for the Christmas-New Year season. That you, a prolific writer, should have browsed my verses with care is approbation I cherish. I wish you all the best and increasing celebrity in the coming year and later on too. I wrote that poem in the early 1960's, travelling by train from Bern to Zurich. Wonder if you have read the poem about a woman who watches an express train fleeting past the field where she was standing. And 'Telegraph Poles' by John Updike. AM