Poetry Archive
Of racing trains and silent hills.
The text is presented as written. Line breaks are preserved from the archived source.
Through the evening airs comes a train’s sound,
Leaving echoes in the silent hills to resound.
Rushing through the green grass and brush,
The train heads west in a mad rush.
From down the path tinkles many a bell,
The goatherd and his goats halt by a well.
The red sun sets into the misty west,
As the madly racing train draws abreast.
Singing clear comes a farmer with his oxen,
Below the stony crags, in the sunset, frozen.
Brilliant, the evening star rises, high above the rest,
Dark sentinels, the hills stand silhouetted in the west.
Bats fly east into the dark gloaming,
Through the shadows cuts the train, roaring.
In the moonrise stands a rocky crest, bright,
Stars one by one, fill the darkness with their light.
Through the night airs comes the train’s sound,
Leaving echoes in the silent hills to resound.
Rushing through the dark grass and brush,
The train heads west in a mad rush.
This poem belongs to the poetry archive on Chips’nCode. Where surviving legacy material exists, the original title graphic is kept with the poem as part of the record rather than rebuilt into something newer.
Copyright © Manoj Prajwal Bhattaram. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations used with clear attribution, these poems may not be copied, redistributed, adapted, or used to create derivative works without prior written permission.