Life rolls by in the awaited wilds Old wanders age in bewilderment Trailers for the next programs are left out Cozy stargazing We’re falling down from there The seats are already taken My respect is not for it but for the vomit in the emptied sink What is wrong with the dream I
Such an insolent bruise to send one into frenzy While the embracing flesh was losing its fury All of a sudden it assumes its grey orphanage You can’t put a foot wrong for reality The blood in your vein holds up doggedly you might be all smiles if only you can leave it behind
Under the plane tree In between the two gates of a little jail A rebel whisper walks with clipped wings And the tree of Hippocrates looks frail A song of a spring piece left in the middle, swings. Under the plane tree Socrates was sick with passion for hearing speeches chapter Divine madness- Theia
UNDER THE PLANE TREE Read More »
English translation by Graziella Sidoli I watch the orchid on the kitchen table as it releases a withered flower from time to time leaving a branch its freshness now lost and stripped of its original color still holding its beauty yet I think pierced by that last shimmering light across the orange pleats
The cause of the days Read More »
the truth fell asleep under the pillow and weaves absurd dreams to me I wake up sweaty because of a scream irrational discovering with a relief it was just a dream we sleep we dream we pretend we cannot see we don’t want to see what slumbers under our pillows and so
the “under-pillow” slumber Read More »
*** the same wind blows here and there the same stars shine above my and your sky the same smile the same tears express us why, then, we set boundaries that make us so distant from each other
(Translation by ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA) I dreamed of rapture tinted green There was no loneliness in it because you loved me for real You were not tired of champagne at midnight of dancing in lace lingerie of the hunger in my eyes and the fervour in my hands Now night settles over all of it
(Translation by ALICJA MARIA KUBERSKA) Old women cough, stepping onto brittle ice They are masters of the game of postponement at any price It is not the rain beyond the window nor nostalgia On the pavement, the allowance of misfortune is being used up Experience speaks, its voice raised. Eyes grow used to drastic images
ALL DAY LONG, RAIN Read More »
If I were the wind, I would carry human cares away into the void of oblivion. If I were the thunder of a storm, I would scatter the doubts obscuring the path to the goal. If I could fall as rain, I would wash away the guilt born of trusting naivety. If
Which way to become a human being? Most likely through a keyhole – peeking educates after all or maybe through a magnifying glass or glassess – they increase the scope of possibilities Which way to become a human being? through the winding meanders of life or the tunnels of upbringing or maybe
The prompter’s whisper (Podszepty suflera) Read More »
