Distant whistles, where do they come from?
Are they horns of the night trains?
Are they sirens of 24 hour factories?
Are they groans of
the suffered pains?
Are they cries of the people in cyclones
Or of the thousand travelers in seas?
Of the Titanic and many other vessels?
Or of the fighters dying in the leas?
Distant whistles, what is your secret?
Are you the wails of those who mourn?
Are you the longings of the sad hearts?
Pulling the days of chained life in sojourn?
Is there no peace, no rest for you at all?
What do you want me do, anyone say.
In the loving plan of the merciful God
There’s salvation for all on a happy bay.
Xavier Bage
XI Oct, 'XIII
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