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The Death of The Deer

Versions: #1
The drought has killed the wind’s last breath,
The melted sun flowed on the earth facing his death,
The sky is hot, empty, and void,
The old wells full of mud, destroyed,
The forest is suffering, so many fires,
Dancing with diabolical desires.
 
I follow my father up on the hill,
The evil pine trees cut deep wounds in my skin,
Together we go silently to hunt our deer,
The hunt of starvation in the mountains of sin,
The thirst shatters me. The drips of water
are boiling on the rock.
My temple is pressing on my shoulder,
On a new, huge, heavy
the unknown planet I walk.
 
We’re waiting in a place where the springs are still singing,
With their smooth, magical strings to the ear,
By dusk, moon and silence clinging,
Here will come in droves, to drink one by one the deer.
 
I tell father I’m thirsty he beckons me to shut up,
Oh, dizzying water, the clearest one I saw
I feel thirst-bound to you. You’re condemned to death
by rules, traditions, and by the natural law.
 
The valley breathes with a faint rustle.
What a terrible evening floats in the universe!
The blood is flowing in the horizon, and my chest is red
as if I wiped my bloody hand on it from this curse.
 
Ferns burns with purple flames, I can see the altar, I can hear the drum,
Even some astonished stars blinking, are crying,
How much I wish you would not come, you would not come,
The beautiful offering of my forest, you are dying!
 
She jumped up, and then stood still,
She fearfully gazed around a moment,
Her thin nostrils made the water thrill
In a rusty circling movement.
 
I saw in her wet eyes, confusion,
I knew that she would suffer, that death is near,
It was like reliving a myth, a wild dream, an illusion,
The story about the girl turned into a deer.
From above, the pale lunar light
Sifted cherry blossoms on her warm fur,
Ah, how I wished that for the first time, in that night
The bullet from my father riffle to miss her!
 
Suddenly the valleys roared. Kneeling
she raised her head and shook it to the stars,
Then she collapsed, stirring
black swarms of beads on the water, her scars.
A bluebird, from the branches, is flying free from all,
The life of the sweet deer toward the eternal rest
it had flown screaming like a bird leaving in the fall
her empty, dry, deserted nest.
 
Stumbling, I closed her shady, sadly eyes
guarded by her horns somehow discreet,
I winced silently, vivid like a ghost when my father
proudly shouted: - We have meat!
 
I tell father I’m thirsty he beckons me to drink,
Oh, dizzying water, the darkest one I saw
I feel thirst-bound to you. You are already dead
because of rules, traditions, and because of the natural law.
The law is useless, full of shades,
When life in us so quickly fades,
Traditions and mercies are echoes flying,
When my sister is hungry, sick, and dying.
 
The smoke is coming silently from my father’s gun,
Without the wind, the scared leaves wildly run and run!
My father makes a frightening fire,
The forest trees sing in the saddest choir!
I catch from herbs unknowingly, and I cannot tell,
A little silver tinkling bell.
With his bare hands out of the skewer, dad had set apart
The deer’s kidneys and her roasted heart.
 
What’s your problem, heart? I’m hungry! I want to live, to conquer fear
Please forgive me, virgin, maiden, my beautiful deer.
I’m sleepy. How high is the fire! I hear the forest beat!
I cry. What is my father thinking? I eat and cry. I eat!