(After Constantin Brancusi’s sculpture, 1924/41)
In the shade of the great oak
the rooster will never sing.
Its voice will never leap from
the glitter of his wonderful body.
It looks with delight
at the curved human branches
that create a marble kiss.
It is haughty and alone!
To lead the hens
is not easy at all.
The voice must be strong,
to upset even God.
“Is Achilles possible
with powder and lead?
Or the Iliad with the printing press?”
Is a rooster possible,
cast in bronze,
with a voice like a bell
that can wake objects?
It is haughty and alone!
It leads the hens with joy,
A rooster above all roosters!
A descendant of the horrid count,
gives away Alcibiades-like feelings.
It imbues love to both feathery
and gilded roosters.
EN 
MK