Epitaphion
Jan Kresadlo

E'en now on his conch-shell through mist is droning
the Centaur-triton with a dolphin's tail
While the past's muffled moo is undertoning
intertwining its path with present's trail.
Melancholy to Music is betrothing
the Autumn landscape reminiscing, pale,
'bout you, whose burnt arthritic bones and clothing
have wafted up the chimney - off to sail.
Long gone's the piglike snorting, howling, neighing,
cowardly species in Cyrillic dressed;
Dogged you last, untouchable in being.
And silently, who to your City harks
will serenaded be, in autumn parks
by foggy Tritons of your last bequest.

(poetry translation VZJP)