The pen
ceased to obey
or dictate
It decided to be frivolous

It knows
about backlash
about disorder
and faint weariness of soul

It said to itself:
Why resist
the thing that betrays language
in order to make it more truthful?

The little things
will perhaps be
the big things of tomorrow
or yesterday

What deadly question
will be put to me by the Sphinx
who is
my travelling companion?

The station clock
Does it tell today’s time,
or that of a day
a thousand years ago?

That man
is he searching for a resting place
or for his passion in life?

The train moves off
Does it know the way?
Or if it will ever stop again?

Little Things
Translated by Alan Baker