Miroslav Válek - Killing rabbits

Miroslav Válek - Killing rabbits
(Zabíjanie králikov

On Sunday after the breakfast
When the air is about half-way to the ice,
The thin flutes of mice whistle in the chimney,
On Sunday after the breakfast
To walk on the fresh snow
Towards the cages.
To put down the gloves for the pink feast,
To spike them on the fence
Like palms freshly chopped off
And to smoke through the door.
Then only to insert the seeking hand
And with the smoke in teeth say sweet things,
Flatteries and sweet words,
To commiserate a little.
Grasp firmly by the skin
And lift off the warm straw.
On Sunday afternoon
Smell the ammonium.
For a while hold by the left hand, head down,
Watch the ears go purple,
To stroke tenderly behind the neck,
Blow on it, carry away
And suddenly with the right hand hit to the rear.
Once more feel the bounce
for the needless jump,
Feel heaviness in the palate,
hear how opens heavens of the hares
and how fall of them
handfuls of hairs.
Viennese blue,
Belgian giant
French ram,
Czech spot,
but as well the bastard of whatever breed,
all of them die with the same speed
and without single word.
On Monday have blue under the eyes, be silent,
On Tuesday reflect on the world's fate,
On Wednesday and Thursday invent the steam engine
and discover stars,
On Friday think of something else,
but first of all about the blue eyes,
all the week round pity the orphans
and be among the flowers fans,
On Saturday on her mouth
On Sunday after the breakfast
kill a rabbit.