SIESTA

The hour-glass leaks this day, this moment and our every destined hour is spent.

The sun is climbing and already at the peak is its every golden beam.

Siesta reigns over words and every thing in the garden not even the dung beetles stir.

By the sleeping household this morning’s vivacity slumbers this sleep is God’s mercy

No sound, no croak, no breath to be heard nor a movement nor disturbing talk.

This burning intermezzo, this inhuman nature the record player is silent, the TV sleeps.

It is siesta, it is siesta, not even the grass grows.

Translated by Ulvija Tanović