I am Not Alone
The night, it is deserted
from the mountains to the sea.
But I, the one who rocks you,
I am not alone!
The sky, it is deserted
for the moon falls to the sea.
But I, the one who holds you,
I am not alone !
The world, it is deserted.
All flesh is sad you see.
But I, the one who hugs you,
I am not alone!
димът тече над тесни процепи
очите
есенция на всички хоризонти.
Man is in pain
Philip Lamantia (1927-2005)
Man is in pain
ten bright balls bat the air
falling through the window
on which his double leans a net the air made
to catch the ten bright balls
Man is a room
where the malefic hand turns a knob
on the unseen unknown double’s door
Man is in pain
with his navel hook caught on a stone quarry
where ten bright balls chose to land
and where the malefic hand carves
on gelatinous air the window
to slam shut on his shadow’s tail
ten bright balls bounce into the unseen
unknown double’s net
Man is a false window
through which his double walks to the truth
that falls as ten bright balls
the malefic hand tossed into the air
Man is in pain
ten bright spikes nailed to the door
Four short poems in English translation by Johannes Beilharz
Summit and Gravity
There’s a motionless tree
And another one coming forward
A river of trees
Hits my chest
The green surge
Is good fortune
You are dressed in red
You are
The seal of the scorched year
The carnal firebrand
The star fruit
In you like sun
The hour rests
Above an abyss of clarities
The height is clouded by birds
Their beaks construct the night
Their wings carry the day
Planted in the crest of light
Between firmness and vertigo
You are
Transparent balance
(»Cima y gravedad«)
Where without Whom
There is not
A single soul among the trees
And I
Don’t know where I’ve gone.
(»Dónde sin quién«)
Passage
More than air
More than water
More than lips
Light light
Your body is the trace of your body
(»Pasaje«)
One and the Same
(Anton Webern, 1883-1945)
Spaces
Space
No center, no above, no below
Ceaselessly devouring and engendering itself
Whirlpool space
And drop into height
Spaces
Clarities steeply cut
Suspended
By the night’s flank
Black gardens of rock crystal
Flowering on a rod of smoke
White gardens exploding in the air
Space
One space opening up
Corolla
And dissolving
Space in space
All is nowhere
Place of impalpable nuptials
(»Lo Idéntico«)
докато продъжавам да гледам
онзи уловен, теб от
линии до кръгове път
на фикционалния човек
пост портрет.
игла зашива очите
тя е последният им спомен
докато спят все нея сънуват
после конецът ще се изниже.
„Сляп виси безкрая” (заглавието е цитат на Гео Милев) е първата ми стихосбирка – страниците на която преливат от стъклени очи и разтопени часовници, дървета със и без листа, огледала и карти таро, шутове и отрязани глави, пустини и морета, кръстове и кръгове, еротика и бунт, материя и мистерия, време и вечност.
Книгата съдържа 22 парчета в духа на Гео Милев – най-добрите текстове от проектите „Делюзии”, „Когато часовниците се топят” и „Dirtify”, писани през последните две години, в които се надявам да се влюбите поне толкова, колкото аз
Книгата е в книжарниците от 18 май със знака на „Хермес” ∞ ∞ ∞
ЯRсен ВасилеВ
The Genius Of The Crowd by Charles Bukowski
there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day
and the best at murder are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace
those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love
beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you
to kill anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect
like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock
their finest art
