What is this crowd of people?
As if some sort of fashion show,
one more important and superior than the other,
and a long que,
of which one cannot see the end.
Here, every Saturday, they take down for free, the names of all the heroes of yesterday,
ripping the stars off their shoulder straps,
smearing the paint off their face.
Only yesterday did we occupy a separate coupe
Looking through the train window at wide landscape
it seemed as if though everything breathed with eternal spring.
And then, at dawn, all of a sudden, knock on the door,
It is the train inspector.
How could you not notice,
that your ticket has expired?
The heroes of yesterday,
the heroes of yesterday,
let us be understanding of
the heroes of yesterday.
The heroes of yesterday,
the Heroes of yesterday,
I would not wish to be recorded
as the hero of yesterday.
And then you are alone on the platform,
exposed as if on the palm of a hand.
You are a target for coins and rocks thrown
Like smoke, your former glory disappeared,
but to me, truly, it is of no concern.
And nice train carriages
fly by me
with heroes of today
they take great pleasure in
observing, you, through their train windows.
The heroes of yesterday,
the heroes of yesterday,
let us be understanding of
the heroes of yesterday.
The heroes of yesterday,
the Heroes of yesterday,
I would not wish to be recorded
as the hero of yesterday.