On baltrameus' night I hid in a haystack
I wasn't of a different faith but had no say in the matter
the most monstrous can neither expect
the grace of god nor buy indulgences
mostly hang around the house feed the livestock
rake hay or work
in the office lick envelopes
I did not burn down because the events took place
in the market square by the church
the righteous danced saint vitus' dance
in torchlight the impious bled lamented
as always they were the minority the wind caught a flame
blew it over the roofs it was beautiful like late night
in a graveyard on all soul's day the revolution cut a swath
in one night maybe it appeared only to me
maybe fifty years passed
maybe the righteous got older and gave way
to their children who were different anyway as always
having graduated from oxfords and monmartres
respecting their parents' faith but having lost it themselves
I came out of the haystack in the morning
smelled a new faith in the air
maybe it appeared to me maybe it was just the site of the fire
as you know a burned smell leaves home last

Translated by Harvey L. Hix and the author