MIROSLAV HOLUB

 

THE GEESE

 

In a wobbly gait,
Between the houses and the fence
They walk, looking for
something that cannot be found.

Week after week,
One of them would disappear,
Leaving a white down trail,
In the kitchen's air.

Those that remain,
Again stagger on,
Preserving a vacant space
Halfway in their
Queue.

Week after week
Between the houses and the fence,
Each of them believes,
With every last gasp of air,

That the time is at hand
for the end of the goose universe,
That wings aspread,
We send into flight.

Wings aspread,
We send into flight.

1964

Translated by Roman Turovsky (2005)

 

 

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