Pavol Janik Poems

Au-dessus d'un miroir horizontal
de la baie allongée
les pointes saillantes d'une ville angulaire
...

In uno specchio orizzontale
della baia raddrizzata
le punte di una città quadrata
...

Towels are the things
which will survive us.
Shirts will remind us.
...

(for Jan Tuzinsky)
A
paper Goethe
...

直直海灣裡的

水平鏡
...

Peace is not female emotionalisam.
Peace is a battle.

Peace doesn't dwell in words.
Peace is waiting for its opportunity
hidden in rockets heads.
Fastest peace.
Spreading at supersonic speed.

Do you want peace?
Have it.
It will come to you
in a few seconds.

Permanent and strongest peace-
-weighs 350 000 trinitrotoluens.

Pixiades, Smiljana
...

With a move of arm
you break the sky.

Your admirers, to death to you devoted,
are in extasy.
There is so many of them,
only archive can know them
by the name.

And how many more will you charm?!

You want some more glory to add to your tribute,
at least a poem,
the deflection of loud defile.
I am honored, my
noble army.

Pixiades, Smiljana
...

For us is enough to insert moon into twilight,
not routinely, like a coin into the slot machine,
and conosours of beauty are trembling in admiration
while choirs recite praises.

We are closer to Zenith
of course light as baloons.
We sing about its monumental emptiness.

We already envy our own past.

Pixiades, Smiljana
...

Ice angels are falling from the sky.
In their mouths are snowy fountains.
The imagined curves of snowdrifts are mature.
I'm just watching, hands are not moving.

The cold breath of the frozen flute
is waking me up.

Pixiades, Smiljana
...

Clumsy are hitting lamps
like night moths.
Matured drunks are falling down.
In the amusement park, wierd generals
in a little green skirts are making grimaces.
In the middle of a metropolis, the forest burns.

In the shell of whispering lips
you swim in a part of the story.

My heart is beating the rest.

Pixiades, Smiljana
...