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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2008-07-09 | |
Motto:"Its hopeless: we and Nature shall never be one again".
Mihai Eminescu 1. In chemical wake the sun comes to life on the salt skeleton of the sea the houses display fake autonomy cubic lumps of sugar in the black boxes of the scream the objects mark you out in detail yet finally you discover the intelligent fog of land armies the influence of bacovia effect on cathode-ray tube speed performance and dynamism the ammonia-lipped snow of industry shaving foam the thougts on the highway the wheels with their tragic nostrils 2. in the ozoned air of the power plant one twilight of twilights I was listening with my body to an idea the laws were turning plains cities into waves like an eclipse the air black black in the dandelion's dome darkness takes size of any occurrence beside the white owl 3. play some more ol'man play your golden saxophone while the night exchanges addresses with anxiety come peel off the light of my hearing the shining teeth of the black race 4. seeking the golden shadow of irreal things I'm crossing this vulgar unique city - sex dimanche - where the brain is a late trap of the feelings on the street motorbikers steal blindmen's canes to acquire a ludic existence down the stairs into a bar I go/through the double light of the lighter I can see the polirhythmical angel of music - sex/zero/sex/tobacco - this cybernetic sun is spotless likewise lovers lack deep eyes 5. in just one hand thou shalt hold both glass and rope the plastic pub can be submitted to all senses without fear of mistaking the stained glass windows mashed by the chopper's blade yet take the town by the hand circular blindman he in a village in the Carpathians 6. oh the woman even death has the memory of round curves in the drunk lens the sea delineates the green madness of astronomers the skin-deep wind of terror the maximum vegetation of solitude life is surgery on the eye of a hero on the street blindmen see the psychoanalytical side of things 7. all my life I've travelled through the sands explosion in a dream sandglass and now you see me such a lonely cigarette in the corner of my lips all my life I've travelled through a cosmetics-for-memories plant and now I wake up with my face drenched in green on an electrical pillow 8. the blue-jeaned governor is playing golf the moon of diamonds is the madman's pulse anxiety is ninety storeys high and despair is combing its long hair in the bathroom the general is journeying on a freight car the audience are watching in slow motion the bullet getting out the president's body the sawing star slipping from one sense to another without counting my dollars the sea only crouches at my feet as a naive prostitute 9. children are drawing on my door the bizarre hats of the women who've committed suicide in the mirror bled white by a scream strikes the pendulum of its own hallucination the water jet/white nenuphar in the room clouds scratched by the red memory of the moon on the street loneliness setting off automobile pistons the clock thinning out the satin of bones in a psychiatric unit wall and neutrino the world breezes through the glasspane 10. the woman with eyes so intensely commercial unbuttoning her blouse a destiny not hers days passing like so many strange force lines Friday a bird hops abstractly in the underground the soldier scything the grass of naive paintings Corina a long way from home time teasing my derm as a mysterious gothic coin 11. evening the city's musical nerves taut as anything you're passing as a shy leaf in the real jet of illusion under the great walls happiness is a spring sunk deep in salt lakes the woman dancer kinetic sculpture in the baroque relief of the night the billionaires' club is fascinated by spotlights women their complexion philosophically white the words gracious fans for fox terriers 12. the woman getting out the park fright heavy makeup on her eyelids in the blinding blizzard of neon signs immigrants combing their melancholy imbued hair it is not easy to survive through imagination the general learns the abrupt compression of landscapes the young raise barricades for the present beyond the great walls horses unbraiding the rare green of the plain 13. I was lost in thought my senses in a flower the factories sparked out coloured cold the electric arc hachured a bee in spectral labs pure air petrified was the word the eye would not enlarge it in the wound laid open to all the days the days the days 14. you're singing/got no fortress to touch only the scorching vacuum: neutrino and the white tennis racket blossoming the girl's face who's got lost in a plexiglass tunnel and you're singing hadn't the light/burnt the capillaries of silence in the vacuum of magnets/the divine fortress wouldn't have perished/spearmen and all what worlds the effigy leaves for us/in our mind we press their coin/on the wound of radioactive carbon/gliding into the last journey/to luana you're singing/the hill gives birth to a crystal eagle called melancholy cyclists pedal under the silver blade of speed you're singing/got no fortress to touch only the sea and the grass of the lens smoking up in the iced eyes of astronomers 15. you're singing/the wall with wings of rubber tears up the sky/the naked shoulder of the dancer her hair a thousand blossomed limetrees and you're singing my love a star's touched me/unexpectedly with its skin of opium/and forgetfulness and I've realised we/what a coincidence live in an explosion/unfinished don't you feel how time rises behind the bird/as a porthole while we're dreamily hit/by an echo of moon in the eyes/of a swallow ay the wall with its rubber wings ashbranch in the tear of the child/you're singing of late motorbikers have faces of violet sand resembling the black bite of emptiness between two houses 16. you're singing/at the wheel laughs the card-tattooed dancer while the beach bleeds falling nights and you're singing the world enfolds you/sad clown through ease increasing your unease not knowing it's you/or her one eye open/in a lily maybe it's the bird/that permeates you quantifying with its wings a ray when the muzzle of the gun/watches like a tunnel beyond/everything you're singing/the music budding in snakes blood on the dying man's lip the beach blinding lovers with falling nights and you sing and sing and sing under the light-guitar of the lighthouse while the automobile stops dead in the middle of the song and the dancer falls into your arms nonplussed you look at her not knowing how blood wells up into your cold mouth/pale carnation 17. exercised danger turns into phosphorescent worlds like the clothes of black immigrants yet I've searched everywhere after the golden logarithms guitar out of eternal Greek bodies 18. the cloud behind objects reflected an evening the colour of scream a chain of torture of thought hadn't touched protected a name out of billions of fragments - phosphorescence of salt on the limpid leg of the fountain - the house was a dimension of the sea whose edges were heard by the automatic's noise ....................................................... yet how is one to go on writing when seeing the micrometrical oscillation of music on the sky that hides away something one evening the colour of scream how tempting to think you've died your eyes fixed under the limpid leg of the fountain 19. evening when peasants are passing in limousines used up by wistfulness the meter ticking away breath of a dying species 20. ole man you've left your fingers in a rock of shadows their tips touch starry nenuphars in the lit up street as a melancholy lighter tongue 21. so often have I sung crushed glass knees on my lips 22. a certain wavelength sound can break crystal likewise the word in the yellow ear threaded by sand of the unborn ones 23. the city stone clock carbonic snow fruit mystify the roots - a blindman crosses the street his astronomic derm on the tips of his nerves - the city dust clock newspapers/yellow soap/squadra azzura the pale crystal field of the windows survival geometry under the desolation river of old bodies the city water clock polishing the wall/saxophone/black bite till the silver trace of a fish leaving the skull 24. often I've heard often I've seen the eclipse between music and the infinite eye of blind people too young I died for the blindness of life 25. astral illusions' blond player under the silvery mist of speed the black lens of wheel could suck me in neutrinic eyes the poplars macerated by cement in the galaxy of synthetic ideas I'm gazing thru protection goggles at the word embodied in billions of commas a tornado of texts the city seems to me with musical towers "modern people don't see a thing, their eyes encompass nothing" I've stopped hearing the twilight's electricity troubling the transparent wounds in the breath of horses - what silence is that made up of frozen noughts on the speed lever - 26. technological laws are learnt in the boxing shed with unconscious blows on childhood's soft belly the sun can be watched thru the diaphanous lens of hardness thru the fine bars of women in luxury madhouses 27. text and wave the unknown is the one sufferance of the word 28. on supermarket escalators the stirred up seekers for blitz love the child severs the telephone wires to the ammonia factory poetry suffers life to come to it singing if we are forgotten by the hour stone climate or Gothic branch in the atom of the burgh locked in the dome we rejoin in silence Diotima 29. play, ole man in ceilingless room with violet walls lambskin walls lest you may hear the breath of the dead so close to the lip that it separates us from ourselves 30. my wild happiness a tiger's voice in a yellow faith death one reason to sing has sent me the mirror to remind me of the old memory of the bird red flying heart of chance my wild happiness thin white sand on dirty objects 31. oh that I had a thinner lilystem of sleep than the breath of the suicide bird 32. the snooker player scans irreversible positions in the room with yellow spirals in the scraggy hair of the madwoman there should be somewhere a button for the lilac forest of my home county 33. the glass city has see-through thoughts events occur on the stadium screen the green water of gravitation gets rusty in the vase and we never mistake the silky buttons of tears in the central city square for more than a hundred years no word about the red shooting star which they say was a gipsy woman her clothes burnt red by love 34. try to sing some more among the vertical walls that yellow wind on my brains language and life infinite approximations of the human being the blind blood of the sound seeking a sensuous guitar 35. motorbikers fall off the spikes of their own blood in the middle of nature till a bird with negative breathing starts singing in their bodies yet anxiety has increased in flags multiplied by the square lightspeed 36. twilight rooms resound of tango yellow crystal and black on which youth glides clean into solitude's reverse children fall asleep, their teeth on edge a mountain thread white automobiles stand quiet as a snowfall of glass and steel on the edge of the abyss 37. it's as if out of figures humans emerge their derms hearing a farther ever farther skull in black valleys of walls walls and walls and walls late have I come to defend the peak of my tear from the cold 38. blossoming lemontrees burning the silence in the spherical breath of fishes the sun wears the bracelet of a night of love on via appia minotaurs pass from future into past 39. the world has fallen on my fingers imperial guillotine/a famous sculpturer wraps up the mountains in plastic sheet - adoringly numerical images - morality struts nude on the beaches of continents/meme la poesie a quelque chose du dernier match de cassius clay/the old man only bears relief movies kinetic sculpture and computer programmed tea/according to the temperature of solitude my country the core of a dream through which I fall in an old manuscript my heart is one beat ahead of life politics is a dancer, faked banknotes her dress the powers-to-be function to a T "mon pays scalpe de sa jeunesse" coal moon and grace/like an old engraving on my lap a temporary death/a high figure wind in an iron whisper man-manuscript/machines have a sense of reality death only knows me behind the visor of breath child/a high figure wind leaves in my eyes the music walls gold speed performance and dynamism/the future a word in which all the occurrences perished the world has fallen on my fingers in my heart joy has the diaphanous murmur of death I'm looking for a house that resembles mother's voice often have I heard my own flesh surrounding a red stain my own flesh white word of stratified masks above the word the future eroded in atavic images river of limpid masks rotting away on walls like the discarded skin of angels and you're singing late/infinity clashes with naked soul/sea star bird clashes with eye/dreamers bells tolling for my was day dries out/colours cub all around/this myself so wasted late infinity sea star/clashes with naked soul you're singing/streetcars their iron welded to your anxiety quo vadis 40. follow me my love into the yellow city wall and neutrino where dusk creeps on with the electronic shotgun of jazz hurricane and hyacinth celestial equator in the lovers' eye yet where's the ocean green and empty ocean of the original sound 41. the walls amplify the optic nerve of gold festivities erosion horse races and uranium waste loneliness advancing like oxygen fissures in stone 42. snow hiding rotten canals cigarette butts black nostrils lying in ambush organ tubes in skips and masked landscape cuts off well well well 43. nudism can be indulged in regardless of weather in the mind our spectators' specs stem out straight from orbits 44. ever since a kid I knew death wall was phony one motorbike-man that'll never leave its own human sphere 45. my love do use the tree circle as royal crown spring the madwoman spring as a queen youth as a viola with shining nerves 46. light mask of all who died 47. beyond the decimal edge of rotors the crane could have been the undulating line after the birth of a star yet my nerves saw it not sometimes death is too close 48. liberty of the stars the fragile grass could be a decimal tree oxygen of power polynesian iron green osmosis of quartz in the amethyst of the brains liberty of stars grass stone and human beings fear cloud in the communal grave 49. no-one knows the nightingale the icy language of sacred eye music out of a blue stone scream of lithium aztec sex yet we're left with something from the mirage of truth a manner of breathing 50. oddly the leaves seem to count us in their fall houses shaped as a shrill sound nobody lives in nobody often the poor hear the nought in objects blind people's hands do not signify in litheness of pure bars stroking one word that thought-lives us imitating the wistfulness of unborn gods we sink too soon in the sleep-iron landscape our fingers deafened by the cranial blade of computers surrounded by liquid helium solitude and pounded heart in the vacuum mouth of objects we can only be saved by the word the word that grinds its own shape with the intensity of a star breathing its own catastrophe the word through which the violet ribs of children can be seen sequential workers their complexion as dark as statistics the gauze bandages of goods hiding rotting canals we live in approximation our eyes shredded by speed nonplussed we fail no notice that our dogs return from hunting bearing sumerian tablets on their collars who are you coming out of the net of time to touch our civilization with a myrtle sprig ay sleep hauls cities on paltry claws their music a breeze from the future yet cybernetic bells snow down on blue deafness 51. in the psychic wave of walls the diver suit of boyhood 52. doctors waiting by a light taking shape under their eyes no-one around the breath of elms only the silk sirens of sleep oxidating the iron garden copy the gramophone out breath in its mechanic ballet and red marble eyes when somebody dies the walls get closer to the station's clock 53. if I open my eyes in the empty room white walls covering the red woods the trace of telephone cord in the red ants' dust white walls covering the red woods where a white hare scorches my proffered palm a form of solitude white walls crumbling the red walls until the sandglass fills with the red ants' labour 54. music multiplying the holographic vacuum of the self 55. only an iron bird can sing in the gold-threaded tree yes but that song is lame like the absurd shoe of one condemned to death only the word can resurrect things in the iron filing tub of our faces a cut through the quiet crumbling of civilisation in the golden tent 56. the city releases the malaxators of the mountains yet a time comes when the ship fills to capacity with live stones and the lotus-shaped water vibrates as a lamb's muzzle in contact with them be happy in the peak of the body's shady droughts as a time comes when objects unveil the cosmic sense of eros and the erosion of shape into the very last fragment of flight and everything turns into the light that cannot leave its Star Suceava, 1979-1982 English version by Liviu Martinescu |
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