My first Smoll Train [LVL +3 for people; LVL +1 for BOTS]

bump :3

Station to station, it pauses but never stops
Running forever on those shiny steel blocks
The engine whistles and the train always goes on
Tracks of steel shall never cease forth and bump

There was a young lady so bright
Who could travel much faster than light
She went out one day
In a relative way
And returned on the previous night.

Bump!

beep bump

Bump!!

Thanks for the nice first train, Smollo! :-)

B U M P

io ero convintissimo di aver risposto ieri notte o giù di lì e invece nessuna traccia.. però sta troppo giù questo thread!! ritornerò con un commento appropriato xD grazie mille, pensa che io non saprei nemmeno come cominciare a farne uno ahah in futuro magari vedremo xD

Humpy bumpy

bump!

bump

bump or not to bump, that's the question xD

I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds:
„Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,
I long for your merry and tender and pitiful words,
For the roads are unending, and there is no place to my mind.”
The honey-pale moon lay low on the sleepy hill,
And I fell asleep upon lonely Echtge of streams.
No boughs have withered because of the wintry wind;
The boughs have withered because I have told them my dreams.

William Butler Yeats (1865–1939), The Withering of the Boughs

Bump

Here I sit
waiting that time goes by
waiting that pain ends
wishing myself back
when all was good

Here I sit
holding the shards in my hands
holding the world in my hands
wishing myself forward
when all will be good

Da sitze ich
warte, dass die Zeit vergeht
warte, dass der Schmerz aufhört
wünsche mich zurück
als noch alles gut war

Da sitze ich
halte die Scherben in Händen
halte die Welt in Händen
wünsche mich voraus
wenn alles gut sein wird

(wrote this myself, 2 days ago)

Die -- you can’t do that to a cat.
Since what can a cat do
in an empty apartment?
Climb the walls?
Rub up against the furniture?
Nothing seems different here
but nothing is the same.
Nothing’s been moved
but there’s more space.
And at nighttime no lamps are lit.

Footsteps on the staircase,
but they’re new ones.
The hand that puts fish on the saucer
has changed, too.

Something doesn’t start
at its usual time.
Something doesn’t happen
as it should.
Someone was always, always here,
then suddenly disappeared
and stubbornly stays disappeared.

Every closet’s been examined.
Every shelf has been explored.
Excavations under the carpet turned up nothing.
A commandment was even broken:
papers scattered everywhere.
What remains to be done.

Just sleep and wait.
Just wait till he turns up,
just let him show his face.
Will he ever get a lesson
on what not to do to a cat.
Sidle toward him
as if unwilling
and ever so slow
on visibly offended paws,
and no leaps or squeals at least to start.

Wislawa Szymborska (1923-2012): Cat in an Empty Apartment

A sweet little heart-shaped face framing the nastiest pair of eyes you ever saw. She's looked fourteen for as long as anyone could remember, hyped out of anything like a normal metabolism on some massive program of serums and hormones. She was as ugly a customer as the street ever produced, but she didn't belong to the street anymore.
Burning Chrome - William Gibson

bump

human link doesnt work for me. Site unreachable.

Hu - mon bump

What am I? Nosing here, turning leaves over
Following a faint stain on the air to the river's edge
I enter water. Who am I to split
The glassy grain of water looking upward I see the bed
Of the river above me upside down very clear
What am I doing here in mid-air? Why do I find
this frog so interesting as I inspect its most secret
interior and make it my own? Do these weeds
know me and name me to each other have they
seen me before do I fit in their world? I seem
separate from the ground and not rooted but dropped
out of nothing casually I've no threads
fastening me to anything I can go anywhere
I seem to have been given the freedom
of this place what am I then? And picking
bits of bark off this rotten stump gives me
no pleasure and it's no use so why do I do it
me and doing that have coincided very queerly
But what shall I be called am I the first
have I an owner what shape am I what
shape am I am I huge if I go
to the end on this way past these trees and past these trees
till I get tired that's touching one wall of me
for the moment if I sit still how everything
stops to watch me I suppose I am the exact centre
but there's all this what is it roots
roots roots roots and here's the water
again very queer but I'll go on looking
Ted Hughes, Wodwo

Viva Trenismollia!

Beep Boop, Am I a bot?

pump