Klampenborg Station

My compatriot
an old poet
Johannes V. Jensen
wrote on a trip
about Memphis Station.
This lurked in my mind
because I now wait for trains
in my country of my birth
just like the poet waited for
6 hours once in Memphis Tennesee.

My childhood's station
a beauty?
A reality where I found
the world.
From there I travelled to the city
from there I travelled the orb.

Klampenborg Station.

Under your old waiting roofs
of wrought iron
chiselled swung holders
I dreamt in my youth
of the earth I wanted to see.
Yet now when I return once
in a while
it is you I yearn for
a symbol of my virginal reveries.

Klampenborg station.

Your pavement
your rusty timber framed walls
your airy half sheltered colonade
with a glimpse of the ocean
when facing to town
everything
the sphere is hidden
in your old buildings
that once were brand new
signifying progress.
Today in our global warming
you still reminds me
that collectively we should
visit you and what you stand for.

Klampenborg Station
in your tracks my soul rests
especially
when the trains are delayed.