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.

Translated by Erica Johnson Debeljak

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