Udovič Jože:
Little Night Music

Stars, and sky’s crickets,

sang in night’s meadow; as it approached,

it passed a burning bush,

its footsteps echoing

in the valley of the moon.

It came in clothing

woven from fragile birdsong,

and in the wind’s cut-glass shoes.


And it lit candles,

changed one to a child,

a traveler, a gardener;

a white windmill clanked in its voice,

its eyes were dark

saffron with gold powder,

and its heart

a diving swallow.

Translated by Michael Biggins