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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366800" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>All Night, All Night</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">&quot;I have been one acquainted with the night&quot; - Robert Frost</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Rode in the train all night, in the sick light. A bird<br>Flew parallel with a singular will. In daydream's moods and<br> attitudes<br>The other passengers slumped, dozed, slept, read,<br>Waiting, and waiting for place to be displaced<br>On the exact track of safety or the rack of accident.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Looked out at the night, unable to distinguish<br>Lights in the towns of passage from the yellow lights<br>Numb on the ceiling. And the bird flew parallel and still<br>As the train shot forth the straight line of its whistle,<br>Forward on the taut tracks, piercing empty, familiar --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The bored center of this vision and condition looked and<br> looked<br>Down through the slick pages of the magazine (seeking<br>The seen and the unseen) and his gaze fell down the well<br>Of the great darkness under the slick glitter,<br>And he was only one among eight million riders and<br> readers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all the while under his empty smile the shaking drum<br>Of the long determined passage passed through him<br>By his body mimicked and echoed. And then the train<br>Like a suddenly storming rain, began to rush and thresh--<br>The silent or passive night, pressing and impressing<br>The patients' foreheads with a tightening-like image<br>Of the rushing engine proceeded by a shaft of light<br>Piercing the dark, changing and transforming the silence<br>Into a violence of foam, sound, smoke and succession.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A bored child went to get a cup of water,<br>And crushed the cup because the water too was<br>Boring and merely boredom's struggle.<br>The child, returning, looked over the shoulder<br>Of a man reading until he annoyed the shoulder.<br>A fat woman yawned and felt the liquid drops<br>Drip down the fleece of many dinners.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And the bird flew parallel and parallel flew<br>The black pencil lines of telephone posts, crucified,<br>At regular intervals, post after post<br>Of thrice crossed, blue-belled, anonymous trees.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then the bird cried as if to all of us:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 0 your life, your lonely life<br> What have you ever done with it,<br> And done with the great gift of consciousness?<br> What will you ever do with your life before death's<br> knife<br> Provides the answer ultimate and appropriate?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As I for my part felt in my heart as one who falls,<br>Falls in a parachute, falls endlessly, and feel the vast<br>Draft of the abyss sucking him down and down, <br>An endlessly helplessly falling and appalled clown:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This is the way that night passes by, this <br>Is the overnight endless trip to the famous unfathomable<br> abyss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Delmore+Schwartz">Delmore Schwartz</a><div class=q>
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Rode in the train all night, in the sick light. A bird
Flew parallel with a singular will. In daydream's moods and
 attitudes
The other passengers slumped, dozed, slept, read,
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