Jan Skácel - How calves come to this world

Jan Skácel - How calves come to this world
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From time to time the cow wistfully boos
and looks back
with her eyes on achate.
Streams of milk jangle on the pails
in the draft wave golden strings of manure,
Every time when the door opens,
the morning comes within.
The cow-house is full of sturry night.
We are waiting.
Suddenly tiny hoofs appear,
touch the light,
shake down the warm darkness,
all with tender force pull the rope,
until the wet calf
through our lap slips into the straw.
So we have, damn it, at least the common joy
and go hastily home to shave ourselves,
to furrow the stubble, the white grass for the night.
A little stick full of song flows in the sky.
(So come to this world calves
and everything lovely.)