Out of the morning mist
a road will emerge.
Around the bend,
a hoarding will shine.
That is the bend where roadsters stop
confused after the passage through the night.
A sudden turn and the traveler halts.
The bends around the corner always hold
the traveler, and the path plunges in a renewed dark.
I love these bends on the sudden mornings on the roads,
the markers, the signs, the clearing of the mist;
they fill me with wonder. They are the reason why we travel
on and on, wakeful through the sleepless nights.
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