why you crying stupid
it's okay now
those are your Sunday rules
that you kill the rooster come on
is this your first time on a farm
that you’re so shocked stop shaking
coz you’ll miss and then you gotta pluck
head on the block and then the axe
you won’t cut it off?
give it to me I’ll do it
they all ran off look as if they could sense
as if they feared they’d be next on the block chop
where does it come from in all living things
this desire to live to avoid the block
how powerful even hens so very afraid
They told us that we couldn’t, that it’s forbidden, don’t we dare. But how could we not go out when those hay bales are so damp and warm, steam almost rising. It’s hottest on damp hay, inside it probably burns. I returned home soaked through and feverish, because in November it’s only warm on hay bales.
“Don’t you worry, we’ll give you some chicken broth, that’s best for illnesses. They’ll tell you on TV, in newspapers and radio that it's fatty, bad for you, no good for digestion. Look at them, wise guys, with their high-school diplomas, said they’ve been all around the world, but they don’t know that there is nothing to beat a good bit of broth. Neither wise nor stupid, I always say they know next to nothing. We all eat chicken broth around here and look, we live on and on! And those who’ve moved on, who could tell how short they might have lasted had they not eaten their broth.” I listened, thinking of the red stains upon the courtyard, while she ladled out broth. There was an aroma. She then sprinkled some chopped frozen parsley from a plastic margarine tub.
Translated by Marek Kazmierski
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