speeding southeasterly
   away from the metropolis
suburban shopping malls give way
   to fields of corn
chased by sunflowers between pine forests

the train pushing
with 100 miles per hour
against the heat
  of a summer noon
towards the mountains
hidden in a haze

then the ascent
on the old artful track
wheels screeching
at the narrow turns
between occasional small houses
built of stone
a hundredandfifty years ago

the silhouette of a big bird
   among the spruce
of cragged peaks
   outlined against the sun

steep mountain meadows
   mowed in morning coolness
the grass already turning into hay.

my birthplace coming up,
a renovated station,
a short stop,
   moving on -

I see
an uphill forest road
on whose high point
a wily stone
   thrown long ago with young ferocity
had killed a squirrel
   instantly


   none of my tears
   would make it jump again
and climb up on its tree

with gathering speed downhill,
on through the river valley
flanked by wooded hills,
spiked with farms
and cluttered haystacks,

rushing by
old steeples in old towns
with some new factories,
until a confluence of rivers
   another stop.


then turning southward
   downhill still
more narrow in the valley
past steep rocks
old castle ruins above sprawling freeways

until the hills recede
and cumulating houses
in a widening basin
suggest the temporary end
of traveling

surprised
   I step out

wondering how
to resume