The train rushed past
It passed me by, and I
am like a station. I don’t know
whether I’m seeing people off or greeting them:
Welcome, on my platforms
cafes,
offices,
roses,
telephones,
newspapers,
sandwiches,
music,
and a rhyme
for another poet who comes and waits

The train rushed past
It passed me by, and I
am still waiting

—Mahmoud Darwish (1941 – 2008)
trans. by Jeffrey Sacks
from Why Did You Leave the Horse Alone?