Nightly Poem #12 : The Way Home

Photographer unknown

The birth of this poem is at a typical small intersection which can be found in any typical city. I was waiting for the cars to pass in order to continue on my way. It was still daylight, in fact the sunset was behind me casting long shadows. The block of flats was reddish, the smell of pancakes reminded me it was Friday.


The mirage of dreams has conquered us
Chrism, wonder and progress.
Smell of pancakes in the air,
Cars waiting at the traffic light,
It's haste, solitude and bustle
on the street, in the soul and in life.

Mirajul viselor ne-a captivat.
Mir, mirare și progres.
Miros de clătite în aer,
mașini oprite la semafor,
e grabă, pustiu și freamăt
pe stradă, în suflet și-n viață.