Faces from the other side pass

So fast-

And then they are gone, leaving me

To see me, a reflection

As though I am not there…

Et les visages me passent très vite.

And blurred visions of night-time vandals

White and black and yellow and green;

They pass so fast- they are barely seen.

Et puis, les visages me passent, encore- très vite.

And melodic sirens from the street

Carried by wind which passes- très vite.

I have gone at dusk through the narrow streets

I have seen the smoke, the pipes- all those lonely men…[1]

Faces that show what is to come, what could have been.

C’est ma folie, je pense… et les visages…

Ils me passent très vite.

~Matia Guardabascio