A poem by Risto Oikarinen translated by John Irons
#1

The novice worries on the monastery wall don’t think watch the birds he thinks watches birds the abbot’s gun goes off a bird falls two three goes off goes off four five the novice on the sixth time stabs a knife in his knee spare the birds aim at me the abbot repents pulls the knife from the novice’s knee presses the blade against his own neck sacrifices five hairs from his beard the novice limps down from the wall searches for heaven’s birds from the ground one two three they are found four five all must be buried don’t mourn for five birds the monk sighs pluck them and I’ll make some pies every day every five seconds a child dies of hunger one two three four five one must forget come come see the heavenly wonder five feathered darts fifty points. - Risto Oikarinen

almost terse
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#2
i would have thought the birds would be set on a table for dinner
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