ղľáԾ
ANXIETY OF UNDRESSING
Breating quietly
The lamp remembers all about you,
You take off your shirt:
That’s how you will lie dying.
Snowfall reaches up to the arms
Of naked crosses.
It is night, undressing and alamp
shining within.
SUNSET
At the corner of two long
wide empty streets
Aman parts with awoman.
Thirty, forty.
It is along farewell. The sky
Arches above them, gigantic,
dirty grey. Now it is all
Figured and numbered –
This much time for love,
That much time for lying.
But none any more for illusions.
Sorrow is of the body.
FROM AN OLD PAINTING
Amagical maiden stepped into
my sleep early one mornning. The dream before
had been torn, full of frights,
restless,
And there she came, complete and naked,
vital, fair haired,
As if illuminated
By adim lapm
from behind,
Composed and wholly
Tender, sensuous –
yet her face was grave.
Death was often painted
as an angel.
OPHELIA
Ophelia, already atrifle weary,
with tiny wrinkles around her mouth
and lovely eyes,
with akid, flat and husband,
resigned, perhaps
happy –
at times, not often
she can still recall herself as amaiden
in white veils,
Snowily lovely,
floating in the long waters,
dead.
THE CITY
In the city statues have been veiled,
along time.
It is like an ominous sign.
Theme: despair.
The past does not exist,
the future is covered
And time keeps working on
what is under the impregnated
Rubber-coated sheet
without us knowing how,
as we can’t see.
POSTPONEMENT
Our apocalypse has got
our look. Smaller than others,
it’s rather loose,
gradual, for most of us, though,
practically invisible,
devastating, but friendly,
continually eroticized,
postponed till tomorrow
and, what is worst, making us expect
subconsciously that what died yesterday
will bloom
into beauty next year.
Translated byMartin Solotruk
