First Dusk
Mother gave birth to him on a bare patch of soil among the young stalks of corn.
Beneath the open sky, like a wolfess.
The humble mother did not look back.
She severed him from herself with her teeth and tied his life into a knot.
She lifted him high to cry out and announce his arrival into this world.
For gentle, caressing words and little songs, the mother had no time.
She only swaddled him in a coarse apron, nursed him briefly,
and left him under an olive tree to wait.
He waited until sunset right there on Ivančeva Field, calm and patient.
Then at dusk, he lapped up the swelling milk from his mother\'s breast.
His mother carries him.
Now, in the first dusk, the outlines of houses emerge.
Olive oil lamps in the windows shine like fireflies.
This is Katun village waiting to step across the threshold, that dear and beloved guest,
to bring joy to brothers and sisters that night.
One more hungry mouth, a future farmer or keeper of the flock.
He fell asleep with clenched fists, his head easily resting on his mother\'s breast.