Miroslav Válek - The autumn
or drink yourself to death.
Autumn puts her empty hands on your shoulder
and asks for fire,
on the autumn's sleeve sits a mouse
and the autumn prays :
"Don't go away, buy some rubies from me."
You deny, so she will buy you.
And you will not get rid
of those stealthy steps behind you
and of those leavings with no reason - and, by the way, where ?
you can hear the autumn wind its clock up,
angrily smoothen its velvet,
how it fears to be late ...
The train is whistling,
over the courts
flies the last square root of a bird.
Write it down everything, you silly little calculator :
that you were too lucky,
- and all that gold
in your pockets !
Write it all down,
The autumn will count it before it is sold.
The vine-taverns switched off the lights.
Darkness for a half of year.
come home with rubies.
Everything is clear :
The trees have anchored,
deep in the clay chains are clashing
the bridge over waters is dry like a wooden chip.
So much weights the unspoken word,
that you begin to fear.
Someone here claps his hands.
From palm to palm
the autumn strews its coins.
The sold children are going to sleep.
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