In August every year this runaway drops by 
Hurrying towards her native country: 
She soars above it 
And makes a noose of black rainbow 
For herself. 
We dig baked potatoes out of the ashes, 
Eat them hot together with skin. 
Our teeth and fingers crumble, 
Foam melts from her neck, 
But new waves break from under her robe 
While we wait for her sisters 
To shine from the mire. 
A young stag Comes to us. 
Whenever her shade passes by 
In the noose 
Swinging over Europe - 
We draw axes and I admit 
That even muiticoloured rainbows, 
Are adept at making black knots.

Mother, I'm coming from a spree: 
The hora disbanded, the gathering place deserted, 
Bodies spread-eagled, mouths gaping, 
A people divided against itself. 
You dance alone like a wailer, 
Cover your eyes, sheathe your tongue 
Behead yourself, disrobe a scarecrow 
Try this and that, it's just too much, Morn. 
I wanna huddle quietly, like an animal, 
At the feet of my... non-human. 
(Translated from Serbian by Novica Petrovich)