It is not the same road
it is different
it moves forward
in the same way
with the same white line
the car
handles the long bends well
- as before -
and glides ahead
following a long white line
the same white line
it is different
all the other cars
have turned off dropped
back and the houses
have longer spaces
between them
that song
on the radio
is in another language
a beautiful song
a melody that floods
my car like a scent
like a person's
exotic perfume
how easy
it is to love that song
whose words to me
are sounds full of promise
the hill-shapes whose
long outlines are
horizons without knowledge
where birds are wheeling
with bird-names
I do not know
and where
each smile and every
beautiful glance
belongs to someone
whose heart beats
beyond my understanding
hidden from me
on this road
that is getting stranger
in this land
I see rolling
on through my windscreen
rolling off
in the mirror.
