Modern Poetry in Translation

Last night wolves were howling
I heard their voices
last night
they brought me your torn clothes
the blue shirt your auntie made you
I wish her dear hand had been
broken
your blue shirt is red with blood
and I cannot make out its print
or pattern

they said their skirts were filled with stones
their hands were full of stones, their skirts
everywhere stones were being rained down
the world was become a world
of stone

I wish
I wish
I wish
your mother were dead
I wish I were

your sister's skirts
are full with blood
your brother is burning
the cradle of wood, can't you
smell the smoke ?
look, I am not
scared any more
the wolf of my fear is hunted
by the tiger
of my venom
and I've become a fire monster
if I open my mouth
the whole earth will
burst