The deer get up next to their mother underneath
The doors to the mountain—
The sky is as bright and as loud as thunder,
And they travel underneath her, milking as the pinecones
Shutter—
Delusions of mauve beauty in their eyes—
Picking the wild berries with their snouts—as the burning
Fairies come to greet them out of doors—
Knocking on their horns with secret epitaphs—
Now that they live here in the dusk and the curl of the mountains—
And the moon is as luminescent as a daydream that has cut
Her wrists—supposing that they will survive in the haunted entrails
Of echoes—as all of the beautiful boys and girls get up yawning,
To enjoying another day at school.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem