Her throat’s bow is stretched,
Her legs – steady and slightly apart,
While her arms – tightly clutched, but moving,
Her bosom and stomach: swollen as in drowning.
The siren’s song dives out uneasily,
It climbs up the plankton,
But an eel passes and shakes up the stairway,
And the voice collapses into the depths again.
What a tempestuous night at the opera!
The famous Salome loses her voice
In front of the thousands watching
And the head of her beloved John.
Translated by Ana Mitoska