(translated from the Macedonian
by Nola Garrett and Natasha Garrett)
I lift this skull that just hours ago
the tempest dug out.
How raw is his innocent death,
exposed after centuries here in this hill
where now I lay him down into a fresh grave,
dewy among wild thyme buzzing with bees.
This hill now seems greater
with a new human stance.
I have added to it
my heart’s force and love,
so I can comprehend
where this resurrected one will go
and what he might tell me,
thought he covers himself with this umbrella,
because it is darker out here
than the light he blazes underground.