Nothing more playful than
the young white goat,
nothing more milky, nothing more spring-like
than the kid
leaping with joy for the sake
of leaping,
horning the air for
air's sake,
nuzzling against me
for the sake of me
not feeding, not playing, shivering with cold
in the ringing prefestal air, knowing
what one would not wish to know.

Translation: Valentin Krustev