Danube approaches, he wants me to give away
a lock and a cramp, and an arm from a flowing sleeve,
I’m more than just water, regardless of what you say,
and I will go on even after you fully leave,
no parting’s a bandage enough for my love’s deep wound,
my light is like crystal pollen that falls in grains,
give me one half of your name and the song you found.
Beware of the serpents, of love and of walking again
barefoot aloof in the snow, of the folks like reeds,
days when a silver eyelash will drop like a tear,
of the man who will bring me milk on a path that leads
through the heart of the night.
Save for that, you have nothing to fear.
Look: here comes the falcon who battled the wind and lost,
from the bottomless sky a feather he drops for you.
Know: the deepest of graves is the song that persists the most.
For my famishing boats give a bit of your bloody brew.
Warm are sins and the loaves of bread, and my oarsmen chant,
through the ribcage an iron hook of Košava curls.
Here a dogrose
bush rushes up through its steep ascent
like a message bearer with flaming blood on his spurs.