Night Watch

What can I write to you? The sheep now yean,

The mountains groan, and the Moon begins to weep.

The stars have stirred up my feelings deep unseen,

And through my body, shivers coldly creep.

What can I write to you? The dog’s fierce bark,

The ancient tongue the Steppe begins to speak.

The owls, starving, call for doom ahead,

Foretelling death to all within the shadows bleak.

What can I write to you? The grass that won't grow.

How we exist, lost deep in idle dreams.

The striped cat that has no mice to fool with,

Plays now with a cup that clatters along.

The rookie shepherd trying to collect his flock, 

Is trailing an index finger over each one.

And the Bay horse snorts through frosty air,

His ears pricks, and starts anew.

I am a man of silence, quelling my fire.

But why am I troubled, worrying again? 

Yawns old house there, stands alone in mire,

In desolation, wrapped quietly in its ordain.

How trust in others grows without your way,

As if it's all a mirage, yet with a piercing glance revealed.

I breathe the air, and to the dawn’s full breast,

The clouds, like lambs, rush eagerly to feed.