I'm not a city: I have neither light, nor
window display. I look good.
I feel good. You didn't
invite me though. How
did I get here?
You'd do anything for me; right?
Let's do it! An attack.
A simple toy-
wife? I dress, dress, dress
myself.
The dressing remains.
I operate, because I'm operated.
All I can do is operate.
(I don't mean anything to anyone.)
What is missing then?
Yet both are men seperetaly.
Ongoing magic. Broad topsyturviness.
Slow, merciless.
A new one is coming: almost perfect.
I swallow it.
I swallow him too.
He is too precious to
waste himself such ways.
I'd choose him: if he knew,
that I'd choose him.
But he doesn't. My dearest is lunatic.
In vain he is full: He is useless
without the Moon, he can't change,
he won't change,
the way the steel bullets spin: drifting,
the blue is drifting.
He tolerates violence on himself, I was afraid
he'd pull himself together and
asks for violence.
I watched myself
born anew with indifference:
(if I melt him!)
stubborn, dense, yowls. They worked on him well.
Right now he is in transition.
He is a lake: looking for its shore.
(Translated by Gabor G. Gyukics)
Nice expressions in some strange way. loved it cross crossing though! thank you for sharing! 10++++++
Right now he is in transition. He is a lake: looking for its shore.......is so nice. Thanks for sharing.10++++
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Insightful and lovely, thanks for sharing.