RAJKO ZINZIFOV

VOICE

Far from my heritage, far from my kin,
In a land not alien to me,
In flowery clearings, green valleys
Alone I wander at noon.
I roam everywhere but my spirit is heavy
And woeful thoughts struggle with me
And make me now cold, now hot
And now quench, now enflame my feelings.
I seek shade, I seek coolness,
In my soul I seek silence
For my cursed heart has suffered enough
And contemplated every sort of evil:
Cunning with wretchedness; with pride, craft;
A dead dream, foolish simplicity,
A love of words, unity without fraternity
And smartness, deceitful goodness.
>>Madman, fool, your soul idle -
I heard an invisible and mysterious voice:
Harness the plough for the forgotten field
For the time and the hour are at hand.
Rise, take the goad in your hands and toil
Day and night with sweat;
Root up the weeds and plough
That the fruitless meadow may bear fruit.
Rise, fool, with a burning prayer,
Swear an oath, cross yourself;
Rise, go forward to the encounter
And stand in dread, quail before God's finger.<<
>>I am ready, I swear by all, to plough the field.
Say who you are, unseen voice.<<
>>Hear!<< thundered the echoing voice,
>>I am God' wrath, the people's voice.<<

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