The big clock tower at the railway
Station no more works;
Their dials remind of dried up wells,
hands mere decorations like that of an invalid old man.
Don’t approach any stranger with a smile
And bother to ask the time;
In small personal watches,
Adjusted to be a bit slow or too fast,
Today everyone inhabits their own comfortable
Zones of history and time —
Public time has died.
Keep inhabiting your own space in the platform.
Smile only to familiar faces.
Let the fact that your watch has stopped, and you
are totally out of place and time,
Remain a secret.
The big clock tower at the railway station has
Been shut down;
In the platform below the tower,
To take us to very different places of existence,We wait for the same train