(This is contemporary French poetry, which I translated. I stayed as faithful as possible to the poem, but with some creative license of my own in order to keep a rhyming scheme going!)
ENJOY!
Les Voyages en train by Grand Corps Malade
Love stories remind me of train journeys.
When I see people traveling, I sometimes wish I could join in.
They stand on platforms and wait,
They panic about arriving late.
Trains often start moving when you least expect it,
As a romance can whisk you away, leaving witnesses astounded.
The witnesses are your friends left behind on the platform,
Who watch as your train leaves with a worried smile, somewhat forlorn.
You signal to say ‘see you later’ with your hand…
Some think you’re confused about your feet, the ground, and where the hell it is you stand.
Some think your head is in the clouds and you’re making a mistake,
While each gives an estimate of how long your journey will take.
Most think the train will veer off track after the first argument,
Since love stories can uproot a part of you from better judgement.
From the first day you have to choose your carriage with care,
Picking between corridor and window, the right place so your courage won’t flare.
For the first few miles, all you care about are her beautiful eyes,
You don’t think about the speed at which the scenery flies by behind the glass.
After all what is it you’re choosing, a love story of first or second class?
You feel alive, you’re feeling light, life is bliss…
so sweet you almost want to give the ticket inspector a kiss.
But the magic doesn’t last forever, and your story starts to flutter.
You tell yourself that it’s not you but her throwing it down the gutter.
The train’s incessant wailing gets on your nerves while each turning makes you sick,
You have to get up and walk, stretch your legs, get on with it.
Now the train is slowing down – it’s already the end of Cupid’s mission,
On top of that, you’re like a moron as your friends stayed at the other station.
Now you’re saying goodbye to the one you’ll be calling your ex.
In her diary, she’ll trace a white line across your name with typex.
But love stories still remind me of train journeys.
When I see people travelling, I sometimes wish I could join in.
They stand on platforms and wait,
They panic about arriving late.
For many, life consists in attempting to catch the train,
To discover what love is because solitude is a pain.
It’s important to get there at the right hour,
On time for this potential journey to euphoria.
Because it is easy to get on the train, but not to sit on the right carriage,
I have gotten on a couple that were filled with too much baggage.
Trains can be variable, some also unreliable,
For example Thameslink is not always possible.
For some, trains are often on strike or outside their transport means,
For them, a love story only takes place in daydreams.
There are also those who rush into the first train without paying any attention,
And of course they get off, disappointed, at the next station.
There are girls who get scared of getting attached because they’re too sensitive,
For them it’s too risky to hold on to the locomotive.
There are explorers who take one train after another,
As soon as one story is over, they’ll attack the next chapter.
My only real journey left me suffering for months, it was a chore.
We both agreed to break up, but she agreed more.
Now I hang about on platforms looking at trains as they leave,
Some doors open, but in a station I feel alone.
Apparently train journeys generally end badly,
If you feel that way just hold on, focus on the scenery.
The train will always have to stop, there will be a terminus.
But now you have been warned: next time, get the bus!
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