POEMS
Adam
Zagajewski
DAYBREAK
At daybreak, from the train window I see cities
which sleep left deserted,
open and defenseless like huge animals
lying on their backs.
Through the vast squares, only my thoughts
and a cold wind are wandering,
linen banners faint on the tops of towers,
birds awaken in trees,
in
the thick fur-coats of parks
wild cats' eyes gleam.
In shop windows the shy light of moming,
eternal debutante, reverberates;
merry-go-rounds, finally self-possessed, pray
to their invisible center,
Gardens fume like the smoldering ruins ofWarsaw,
and the first van has not yet arrived
at the brown wall of the slaughterhouse.
At daybreak cities belong to no one
and have no names.
And
J,
too, am without a name,
at dawn, when stars pale
and the train speeds up.
