Scar

I encircled you, blood, with nine gardens,
I enclosed you in nine gorges, nine throats—
what else do you want, why do you keep after me?
Why threaten me, blood, with your dark hoof?
Why so insatiable?

I encircled you with nine gardens, nine gorges,
so calm yourself, blood, settle into your darkness,
at the bottom of which, for a long, long time,
your red boar has been seeking a cave to rest in.
Descend into your darkness, blood,

and do not look back.

There is no better place to tame you than this,
than these nine gardens, nine gardens that live
on your lush vegetation;
than these nine gorges, nine throats that sing
the springtime of your songs.
Descend into your darkness, blood,

and do not say to me:

Listen to the thunder in the distance,
listen to the roaring of the forests—
horses are coming on a road of stars and moonlight,
horses, horses, horses are coming,
bay horses are coming to trample me,
they’re coming to trample me underfoot.
But I will kick them with my hoof,
I will kick them in the middle of their foreheads
so they remember me, so they speak of me,
and in the evening that scar will shine for them,
will shine in their nights without moonlight,
will shine in their days without sunlight,
will shine on their paths through the elderwort.

Say nothing, blood. Blood, calm yourself,
encircled by nine gardens,
enclosed by nine gorges,
like an all-powerful ruler
in some inaccessible fortress.