I saw the first calf being born
how the cow licked its forehead
its eyes
its legs
I watched it have trouble standing up
then walk better and better
in search of the stable door
and licking my dad's hand on the threshold
I saw all this
when I was a child
and father did not know why I was crying
but I caught a glimpse of it
(I only tell you now, daddy)
in the blade of the knife
you used to cut the umbilical cord
and as it flowed
the blood knew it would be touching that blade
one last time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem