Tell me,
O lovely one,
To where does this train go?
Please, do not board,
Grayness will sweep the train yard
As soon as your face
Disappears into the distance,
A wisp of smoke piercing the horizon.

Whistles blow,
A sorrowful cry,
But you, and all of these lovely faces
Are indifferent to it.
Though you frown into the sun,
Your cheeks and eyes creased with worry
That you will never see it again,
You walk, ever so slowly.

Tell me,
Because I need to know,
Shy do you leave the place
That thrives on the touch of your hand?
What is this grayness you wear,
These rags of conformity?
The steps of men echo
On a march to distant death.

Good-bye,
O lovely one
Your hardened face
Staring stolidly forward
You will not change your mind.
So I run
Chasing the last of your brilliance
Before the grayness swallows me.