An old man sits alone on a park bench, taking in fresh air and sunlight as if they were food and drink. He rises slowly and walks toward evening, carrying the path he has travelled like a story in his pocket. The “gate of twilight” is both the end of the day and a glimpse of the long night ahead, strangely soft in his mind as a “white-dream night.” His routine feels calm but also lonely and repetitive: every day he makes the same journey, faithful to the daylight, air, and wind. The closing lines hint that this gentle rhythm cannot last forever. Eventually twilight may slip away from him, or night may close around him for good. The mood is tender, patient, and quietly aware of old age and mortality.
The Refrain of a Pensioner — Summary
Sitting on a bench, lonesome in a corner of a park he fills his lungs with green air and idly he drinks the milk of light.
He rises slowly, and he puts the path, as a fiction book, in his pocket walking towards the gate of twilight where his white-dream night lies ahead.
Every day he repeats this journey without betraying the day, air or wind until the twilight runs away from him or the night locks him in forever.