COLUMBA
  • COLUMBA
  • READ
  • CHAPBOOKS
  • ABOUT
  • SUBSCRIBE
  • SUBMIT
  • CONTACT
<
CHERNICOFF/ BIO




MONGOLIAN
​
​

        for Yuvan

A man with a pasture and no woman,
the moon is his drum.

His horses are stone horses,
cloud horses.

Where does that road go,
the road of a wild dog,
hobbled mule,
the road of a drunken man,
a crying man
lying down in the road,
where can such a road go?

His broken heart,
the carcass of a she-goat.
What will become of her child?

Even the wind doesn’t know,
keeps asking.
Maybe the stone knows,
maybe the grass.

Someone is counting his goats,
a man is singing his goats
out to pasture
in all that is left of language.

© COLUMBA  |  ​​​​​​ISSN ​2564-1271

  • COLUMBA
  • READ
  • CHAPBOOKS
  • ABOUT
  • SUBSCRIBE
  • SUBMIT
  • CONTACT