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.
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