Rien

I fell in love with emptiness

Of sentence ends,

In which I put,

With shivery uncertain hands,

This meaning.

So painfully ashamed

Of my irregular vector,

Forcing myself out of my own muteness,

Challenging myself to open –

What was it all for?

 

Nothing.

 

Pre-emptive nothingness,

Moist, cold, and thick greyness.

I fell in love with emptiness.

There was nothing in it.

Famous blue raincoat – part 2

Thanks – for the trouble you took from her eyes.

All along it was there for good,

And no one, indeed, ever tried.

Thanks – for you made her a flake of your life,

Shiny, weightless, amusing and free

Best before: Friday, quarter to five.

Thanks – for you showed her: no matter how good,

You just had all the flakes in your world,

You just hardly could care for one more.

Thanks – so sincerely, as never before,

For the trouble you took from her eyes,

Stunned at it for a while – and placed back.

Famous blue raincoat – part 1

 

He made me so aware 

Of the nods, and edges,

And witty shingles of my

Queerly shaped uneven spirit

And body that reacted bluntly and 

Shun itself into exhaustion.

He made me yearn for easiness of being with him

While I would never be but a flake

Of his illuminated life.

And though I hurt to be a flake,

He made me live at once.

Indeed, he took the trouble from my eyes…

 

In Deine Hände

In Deine Hände, große Stille,

ich lege meine kranke Stirn.

Entstellt, gelöst, geklärt, entzwirnt –

Befreit von Hoffnung´ sanften Wirren,

Entkleidet aller Kraft und Wille –

Ich füge mich reumütig – Dir.

Drück Deinen Mund an meine Schläfen,

umarme mich – ich bin so leer,

so einsam, ruhig und verklärt,

im tiefen, trüben, kalten Meer –

lass dieses Weh in mir einschläfern

Durch Deine Ruh. Ich träum nicht mehr.

in your eyes only

Show me how to be precious,

desperate, devious, hysterical,

быть восхитительно бешеной, –

woven between these lines

of some heretic simplicity

my overzealous mind

never could fully grasp.

 

Your intricate pattern:

this subtly feline

– indescribable –

line of your silhouette,

perfectly filling space,

maddens me out of my wits.

 

This delicate subtlety of

– ! your exclamation marks ! –

hidden

from unaware eyes,

bent to still question marks

over my pertinent fear

mixed with this stubborn anger,

spiced with unfulfilled longing,

drenched in endless coffee.

 

See me with those eyes of yours, –

the eyes of the Other –

see yourself in dissimilarity,

for I, too,

recognise

myself

– this new me –

in your eyes only.

 

Так нежно…

Так нежно.

Так тихо и нежно,

Как воздух, что в горле, смутившись

Банальностью голосовых связок,

Беззвучно, пугливо, интимно

Вплавляется в бесконечность

Движений, улыбок и взглядов.

Как кончики пальцев,

чуть вздрогнув,

смолкают, не смея коснуться,

И дух раздосадован этой –

Незримой. Неумолимой.

До бешенства вездесущей –

Тончайшей прозрачной границей.

Ах, как мы исполнены такта!

С Тобой – говорить и смеяться,

Лелея те взгляды украдкой,

Невинные прикосновенья –

Так близко и так бесконтактно.

Как будто мы малые дети…

Так нежно, легко и безмерно,

Лишь вовремя, как при румбе,

Шаг

сделать

назад, – и смирно

Бежать по привычным спинам…

Так нежно, украдкой, с улыбкой,

Так трогательно и… параллельно

Эвклидово наше пространство.

As I

As I

dance

across

the water edge

of freshly gained illusions, hopes, and wishes,

 

as I

flash

a smile

across

the chlor-free pages

of some thoughts, enwrapped in words and figures,

 

as I

touch

in passing

secret

backside

of your trained, well-balanced mind,

 

I am

almost

unafraid

to fly.

and still.

Don´t let me fall between the lines.

 

The one

The one, who smiles nonchalantly

and replies to the stories of childhood anxieties

with that soft „that was long ago, ey?“ –

which suddenly works,

and you stumble and blink and – then at once, you can breathe again.

The one who stammers himself,

when touched deeper on his own demons,

as if no one ever cared to ask twice when he says everything´s fine.

The one, who steps up and draws back far too quickly

for my overcautious mind to react just in time.

The one who never comes too close and is never away,

who shares the tiredness, excitement, energy,

and cranial hunger of a raging spirit,

and yet fills you with that meek, quiet, and despicable peace,

that makes your every cell smile like a Cheshire cat,

the one who brings you light.

Let my voice sound…

Let my voice sound,

as it never did before,

sing, sing,

sing like a dreamy madman,

cheerful, calm and blessedly hopeless,

smiling to the invisible universe,

multiple realities of one´s heart,

smiling back,

Sounding back,

Resonating …

 

Let my voice flow,

break the damm of my choking silence,

of my terror to call things

by their names,

real and utmost,

Endlessly fascinating….

Let it break out of the hoarseness

and whisper

and this throat,

so soar of yearning to speak out,

yearning to yell,

to dwell,

to sing,

to pray,

to call out your name?

take your tristesse and go…

Take your tristesse and go.

Carry it, day and night,

hide it so deep inside,

deeper and deeper in thee.

Past all those bravorous lies,

well-rehearsed, as-if-careless smiles,

speechless and shy

in that bottomless pit of your soul,

where only one pair of eyes

reaches to see.

 

Take this without-ness and go.

Do not inquire why.

Nobody knows.

It just happened.

Your quiet rags of light

Fitted so perfectly right.

Force yourself to be happy.

For you have not a brink of right

to may hope for anything better.