Urns broken into pieces – anywhere
huge tombstones of marble
resting underneath so many legionaries,
lo Hinov – hidden within, everywhere
the flood of centuries flown by.

Treading on this struck dumb land,
I see what you don’t see:
shadows of those heroes
we all descended from;
and sitting in the silent valley,
can’t help but laugh at rhythm
and mock at any rule;
my rhythm is the uproar
their mail coats produce.

I see them… there they are: all risen
from their graves…
All passing by –
passing by hundreds; lo: helmets made of steel,
Romans broad-shouldered, - wavy
their hair; mighty their arm.
The whole ancient Rome
reveals itself ‘fore me:
consuls,
proconsuls,
patrons, daughters, affranchised slaves –
the whole ancient Rome:
pontiffs, then, vestals too,
flamens,
Saturnalia. –
Ave! Eternal star, still
vagrant on these shores.
Hush, o! empty lines…
and bite the ground, you poet; -
Caesars all now passing –
lay your kiss upon this land:
holly it is.


(adapted translation Axel H. Lenn - after “Hinov” by al. Macedonski)