One goes in straightforward ways,
One in a circle roams:
Waits for a girl of his gone days,
Or for returning home.But I do go — and woe is there —
By a way nor straight, nor broad,
But into never and nowhere,
Like trains — off the railroad.
Andrey Kneller has done a wonderful translation of “I don’t think of you often at all…”
I don’t think of you often at all
I’m not interested much in your fate
But the imprint you left on my soul
On our trivial meeting won’t fade.…