3) Subway Station*

by Gilbert Highet

Standing in the subway station, I began to appreciate the place--almost to enjoy it. First of all, I looked at the lighting: a row of meager light bulbs, unscreened(unprotected), yellow, and coated with filth(murdarie), stretched toward ( se intindeau spre) the black mouth of the tunnel, as though it were a bolt hole(gaura unui surub) in an abandoned coal mine. Then I lingered(zabovi), with zest(ardoare), on the walls and ceilings: sandstone tiles (placi de gresie), which had been white about fifty years ago, were now encrusted with soot(funingine), coated with the remains of a dirty liquid which might be either atmospheric humidity mingled (amestecata) with smog(ceata si fum) or the result of a perfunctory(superficial) attempt to clean them with cold water. Above them, gloomy(dismal, somber) vaulting(bolta) from which dingy(murdar) paint was peeling off like scabs(crusta) from an old wound, sick black paint leaving a leprous white undersurface. Beneath (under) my feet, the floor was a nauseating(disgusting) dark brown with black stains upon it which might be stale oil or dry chewing gum or some worse defilement(murdarie).Then my eye traveled to the tracks(linii ferate), where two lines of glittering steel--the only positively clean objects in the whole place--ran out of darkness into darkness above. An unspeakable mass of congealed oil, puddles(balti) of dubious liquid, and a mishmash(adunatura) of old cigarette packets, mutilated and filthy newspapers, and the debris(moloz) that filtered down(a patrunde) from the street above were giving the place a dilapidated image.

Filth = defilement = dirt = grime