The black night husks, the dark cliff
tears down, neither cocks in the village
nor dawns; only that Mount Abora.
He watches from the peak, neither digs he
nor plows, with this piece of bread, he must.
Aaron’s best looking child
defeats the armed multitudes, the king,
disperses birds and crowds. It caught
up with him right on the threshold, and
all who had reached maturity left, everybody
that had cauhgt beam and bark, and could make
from themselves a step towards the Mount.
Neither cocks in the village, nor dawns, nor they
shall meet. A soldier ran across, a plowman?
(Translation: Dragi Mihajlovski and David Bowen)