To whom the day to whom the night
bites off the piece of the sky
the bite of the blue is known
like a piece of bread to eyes
the dark's been stolen from little strength
and has weaved the mercy into nightingales
like a faded poppy in your green memory
has bones-like stared into the owls
kome noć kome dan
pregrize komad neba
ujed plavod mu znan
očima komad mu hljeba
s male snage ukradeni mrak
u slavuje ti utka milosti
u zelenom ti sjećanju uveo mak
u sove razrogači kosti
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I would like to translate this poem