Zajc Dane:
Great Black Bull
The great black bull bellows in the morning.
Great black bull, who are you calling?
The pastures are empty.
The mountains are empty.
The gorges are empty.
Empty like the echo of your call.
The great black bull bellows in the morning.
As if spraying dark black blood
over the crowns of dark pines.
As if the bull’s bleeding eye
had spilled open that morning
over eastern forests.
Great black bull, who are you calling?
Do you take pleasure in hearing
how your hollow scream
returns as an echo?
Great black bull, bloodless is the morning.
Your voice falls into gorges
like a tattered swarm
of black ravens.
No one hears your solitude.
You quench no one’s thirst
with your black and bloodied voice.
Be silent, great black bull.
The great black bull bellows in the morning.
The eastern sun sharpens
its glistening hatchet.