i lie upon the earth, my lover, my grave
and press my ear to her boundless chest
in hollow beats, in roots that crave
i feel my pulse and kiss it
i strip dead bark from a tree and life pours forth
as my heart starts beating through my hands
to your chest i press my palms
feel me, understand my body, that it’s not real
no form i keep, no name, no sound
i am decay and i am flame
we lie on the ground as i gaze at the world upside down
i move a branch over you and pull it
through your lips, the world flows back to me
as a pain rises in my back and wakes me
Wednesday, November 13, 2024
at November 13, 2024 0 comments
Labels: My Own Literary Works
Friday, October 18, 2024
Midgarthormr - Jorge Luis Borges
Endless is the sea. Endless the fish, the green
cosmic serpent that encircles all,
green serpent and green sea, the earth, a ball,
circular as it is. The mouth bites clean
the tail that comes to it from distant ends,
from the opposite shore. The powerful ring
that holds us is storms, light it does bring,
shadows and noise, reflections of reflections.
It is also the amphisbæna. Endless eyes
gaze at each other without fear or dread.
Each head sniffs grossly at the iron cries
of war, the spoils of what the dead have shed.
Dreamed in Iceland. The open seas have seen it,
and feared it; it will return, condemned
upon the ship that's cursed, built and hemmed
with nails from the dead that claw and fit.
Its inconceivable shadow will rise high
over the pale earth on the day of great
wolves and the splendid agony of fate,
of that twilight which no one dares to name.
Its imagined image stains us with its guilt.
At dawn, in a nightmare, I saw its hilt.
gpt'ye çevirttim ingilizcesini bulamıyom... aslı:
Sin fin el mar. Sin fin el pez, la verde
serpiente cosmogónica que encierra,
verde serpiente y verde mar, la tierra,
como ella circular. La boca muerde
la cola que le llega desde lejos,
desde el otro confín. El fuerte anillo
que nos abarca es tempestades, brillo,
sombra y rumor, reflejos de reflejos.
Es también la anfisbena. Eternamente
se miran sin horror los muchos ojos.
Cada cabeza husmea crasamente
los hierros de la guerra y los despojos.
Soñado fue en Islandia. Los abiertos
mares lo han divisado y lo han temido;
volverá con el barco maldecido
que se arma con las uñas de los muertos.
Alta será su inconcebible sombra
sobre la tierra pálida en el día
de altos lobos y espléndida agonía
del crepúsculo aquel que no se nombra.
Su imaginaria imagen nos mancilla.
Hacia el alba lo vi en la pesadilla.
at October 18, 2024 1 comments
Labels: Poetry
Friday, May 31, 2024
notice how not a cloud is in sight yet snow descends
relentless, as never before
the night is a deep, indigo abyss
in the water i am
above me, eternal stars
i look up and my vision fades,
stars and snow are merging into one
it’s as if the universe is pouring down on me
like a branch reaching for the sun
close your eyes, immerse yourself
and the waters shall recede, taking you
the snow, the stars, the universe – everything
where you belong
and so i close my eyes
gone we are
only silence remains
and the dreams of a nascent universe
Labels: My Own Literary Works
Tuesday, May 7, 2024
Nightmare - Jorge Luis Borges
I'm dreaming of an ancient king. His crown
Is iron and his gaze is dead. There are
No faces like that now. And never far
His firm sword guards him, loyal like his hound.
I do not know if he is from Norway
Or Northumberland. But from the north, I know.
His tight red beard covers his chest. And no,
His blind gaze doesn't hurl a gaze my way.
From what extinguished mirror, from what ship
On seas that were his gambling wilderness
Could this man, gray and grave, venture a trip
Forcing on me his past and bitterness?
I know he dreams and judges me, is drawn
Erect. Day breaks up night. He hasn't gone.
Sunday, April 21, 2024
Outside on the wide meadows, in the fields of young dreams
Soon the foggy sun will rise from its slumber
Morning dew in those times tastes like tears made from aniseed,
The one who cries knows that he won't live to see his yesterday again
Labels: Poetry
Friday, April 5, 2024
Black Hill and Silent Island - The gathering of deer
Labels: Music
Tuesday, March 19, 2024
Trouvere Medieval Minstrels - Douce Dame Jolie
Labels: Music
Monday, February 26, 2024
Saturday, February 24, 2024
Giacomo Leopardi - Brutus the Younger
at February 24, 2024 0 comments
Labels: Poetry
Wednesday, February 21, 2024
at February 21, 2024 1 comments
Labels: Stories
Tuesday, February 20, 2024
there was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
the earth, and every common sight,
to me did seem
apparelled in celestial light,
the glory and the freshness of a dream.
it is not now as it hath been of yore;—
turn wheresoe'er i may,
by night or day.
the things which i have seen i now can see no more.
that.
and this would be the perfect last post lol
at February 20, 2024 0 comments
Labels: Poetry