six lines in strange appreciation of the hunted

The black slit lies in its copper cloud.

‘Quiet as a knife.’

His heart beats its heavy, sinking beats.

Straight into the shadowy blue channel through the pines.

Fall silently or remain hanging.

They stay just as they are, forgotten.

– from Alexander Ahndoril’s The Director, trans. Sarah Death, Portobello Books, London, 2008, line by line, pp. 132, 172, 181, 191, 196 & 203