The sky on this day - is clear, But now there are armours rattling. And above our earth - droning began, And the trees in the tar - are sad. Smoke and ashes stand like crosses, Nests on the roofs are not built by the storks. Spike - in the colour of amber - are we managing? No! In vain, face it, we sowed. Whatís there in those colours of amber shining? Thatís like fields on fire cracking. Dispersed to all sides from calamity... There are no more singing birds - but crows! And the trees are in dust in the autumn. These, that are able to sing - stopped it. And love is not for us, - thatís true indeed, What is more important now than hatred? Smoke and ashes stand like crosses, Nests on the roofs are not built by the storks. The wood makes a noise like always, in the tree-tops, And the earth and water - moan, But without a miracle - it doesnít work. The prewar wood sounds. They dragged themselves away from calamity to the east, There are no more singing birds, no storks In the air are preserved noises diversely But now in there is - roaring, clanking. Even clatter of horsesí hoofs, If someone begins to shout - then in a whisper. They dragged themselves away from calamity to the east, - And above the roofs there are no storks...
© Elisabeth Jelinek. Translation, 2018