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The Bicycle |
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once forgotten by tourists a bicycle joined a herd of mountain goats with its splendidly turned silver horns it became their leader with its bell it warned them of danger with them it partook in romps on the snow covered glade the bicycle gazed from above o people walking; with the goats it fought over a goat, with a bearded buck it reared up at eagles enraged on its back wheel it was happy though it never nibbled at grass or drank from a stream until once a poacher shot it tempted by the silver trophy of its horns and then above the Tatras was seen against the sparkling January sky the angel of death erect slowly riding to heaven holding the bicycle's dead horns. -- Jerzy Harasymowicz (Poland; translated by Edmond Ordon) |
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READING / LITERATURE LITERATURE ON LINE |