Аз...май...загубих ума и дума...

Благодаря ти много...всъщност думи нямам.
Много е настръхващо!

...да се разположиш удобно в невъзможното...

НЕ КАЗВАШЕ НИ ДУМА

Луис Сернуда

От испански: Рада Пан4овска



Не казваше ни дума,
Приближаваше само въпросително тяло,
Защото не знаеше,4е желанието е питане,
4ийто отговор не съществува,
Лист, 4ийто клон не съществува,
Свят, 4ието небе не съществува.



Тъгата си проправя път през косите,
Завръща се по вените,
Докато се отвори в кожата,
Фонтани от сън,
Въплътени във въпрос, отправен в облаците...



Едно докосване мимоходом,
Бърз поглед сред сенките,
Са достатъ4ни да се сцепи на две тялото,
Жадно да приеме в себе си
Друго тяло, което да сънува...



Половина с половина, сън със сън, плът с плът,
Сродни по фигура, сродни в любов, сродни в желание...



Макар да е само една надежда,
Защото желанието е въпрос, 4ийто отговор не знае никой.

Винаги съм предпочитала "If" на английски именно заради превода, но - да, този наистина е доста сполучлив :)

the mind of the wind...

... той Е!

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

This is why the lady is a PUNK!

shoes

when you're young
a pair of
female
high-heeled shoes
just sitting
alone
in the closet
can fire your
bones;
when you're old
it's just
a pair of shoes
without
anybody
in them
and
just as
well.

---------------------------------------------------------------

How is your heart?

during my worst times
on the park benches
in the jails
or living with
whores
I always had this certain
contentment-
I wouldn't call it
happiness-
it was more of an inner
balance
that settled for
whatever was occuring
and it helped in the
factories
and when relationships
went wrong
with the
girls.

it helped
through the
wars and the
hangovers
the backalley fights
the
hospitals.

to awaken in a cheap room
in a strange city and
pull up the shade-
this was the craziest kind of
contentment

and to walk across the floor
to an old dresser with a
cracked mirror-
see myself, ugly,
grinning at it all.

what matters most is
how well you
walk through the
fire.

-----------------------------------------------------------

For Jane

225 days under grass
and you know more than I.
they have long taken your blood,
you are a dry stick in a basket.
is this how it works?
in this room
the hours of love
still make shadows.

when you left
you took almost
everything.
I kneel in the nights
before tigers
that will not let me be.

what you were
will not happen again.
the tigers have found me
and I do not care.

This is why the lady is a PUNK!

confession

waiting for death
like a cat
that will jump on the
bed

I am so very sorry for
my wife

she will see this
stiff
white
body
shake it once, then
maybe
again

"Hank!"

Hank won't
answer.

it's not my death that
worries me, it's my wife
left with this
pile of
nothing.

I want to
let her know
though
that all the nights
sleeping
beside her

even the useless
arguments
were things
ever splendid

and the hard
words
I ever feared to
say
can now be
said:

I love
you.


... господи, колко е нежен...

This is why the lady is a PUNK!

ДЪЖДОВНИ КАПКИ

Дзян Хъ


Понякога в душата ти
внезапно опустява
като градина след дъжд
някакви неща
по контурите в края
се приплъзват
ти усещаш
проблясва керемида
или може би лист
накланя се
надолу увисва
вода
изтегля се
окръгля се
капка
по капка
устремно
неясно
падат натрошават се
и пак гъвкаво меко
се сливат
разпръскват се
и накрая замират
ти знаеш
локвите ще пресъхнат
в този миг душата ти
пак ще бъде огряна от топлото слънце

Залез

И когато огледалото в стаята
потъмнее отегчено,
когато нощта се спусне
зад завесата,
когато плътта придобие
горчивия вкус на слюнка
и тление,
когато волята възвърне
силата си,
когато кракът прилепне
в обувката...
Когато в седем вечерта
умре денят -
нека в в душите ни
блесне
мъждукащата светлина на отлитаща дума.

извадки.

This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor,
all falls aside but myself and it,
Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth, and what
was expected of heaven or fear'd of hell, are now consumed,
Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response
likewise ungovernable,
Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all
diffused, mine too diffused,
Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling
and deliciously aching,
Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of
love, white-blow and delirious nice,
Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the
prostrate dawn,
Undulating into the willing and yielding day,
Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd day.

This the nucleus- after the child is born of woman, man is born of
woman,
This the bath of birth, this the merge of small and large, and the
outlet again.

Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the
exit of the rest,
You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.

The female contains all qualities and tempers them,
She is in her place and moves with perfect balance,
She is all things duly veil'd, she is both passive and active,
She is to conceive daughters as well as sons, and sons as well as
daughters.

As I see my soul reflected in Nature,
As I see through a mist, One with inexpressible completeness,
sanity, beauty,
See the bent head and arms folded over the breast, the Female I see.

6
The male is not less the soul nor more, he too is in his place,
He too is all qualities, he is action and power,
The flush of the known universe is in him,
Scorn becomes him well, and appetite and defiance become him well,
The wildest largest passions, bliss that is utmost, sorrow that is
utmost become him well, pride is for him,
The full-spread pride of man is calming and excellent to the soul,
Knowledge becomes him, he likes it always, he brings every thing to
the test of himself,
Whatever the survey, whatever the sea and the sail he strikes
soundings at last only here,
(Where else does he strike soundings except here?)

The man's body is sacred and the woman's body is sacred,
No matter who it is, it is sacred- is it the meanest one in the
laborers' gang?
Is it one of the dull-faced immigrants just landed on the wharf?
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the well-off, just as
much as you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.

(All is a procession,
The universe is a procession with measured and perfect motion.)

Do you know so much yourself that you call the meanest ignorant?
Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has
no right to a sight?
Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float, and
the soil is on the surface, and water runs and vegetation
sprouts,
For you only, and not for him and her?

"i don't have low self-esteem. i just have low esteem for everyone else."

Cat in an empty apartment

Dying--you wouldn't do that to a cat.

For what is a cat to do

in an empty apartment?

Climb up the walls?

Brush up against the furniture?

Nothing here seems changed,

and yet something has changed.

Nothing has been moved,

and yet there's more room.

And in the evenings the lamp is not on.




One hears footsteps on the stairs,

but they're not the same.

Neither is the hand

that puts a fish on the plate.




Something here isn't starting

at its usual time.

Something here isn't happening

as it should.

Somebody has been here and has been,

and then has suddenly disappeared

and now is stubbornly absent.




All the closets have been scanned

and all the shelves run through.

Slipping under the carpet and checking came to nothing.

The rule has even been broken and all the papers scattered.

What else is there to do?

Sleep and wait.




Just let him come back,

let him show up.

Then he'll find out

that you don't do that to a cat.

Going toward him

faking reluctance,

slowly,

on very offended paws.

And no jumping, purring at first.

"i don't have low self-esteem. i just have low esteem for everyone else."