Umberto Saba - The Goat lyrics

I was speaking to a goat. She was alone in the field, tied up. Sated with gra**, wet with rain, she was bleating. That selfsame bleat was brother to my own pain. And I replied, at first in jest, then because pain is eternal, a constant voice. This voice sounded in the groan of a lonely goat. In a goat with a Semitic face, a sound to represent all other woes, all other life.