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

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.

 

I thank Thee

It has been good and fine, my Lord,

Through all this time, this life,

Thou hast been patient and kind to me.

I thank Thee.

 

All of this cheerful hopelessness,

all of this blind and deaf, and muted glory,

of well-established and successful matrimony.

All the complexity of spirits, blessed,

and cursed, and tied to one another,

colliding in their futile try to melt

together. Ever so close they dwelled

over the threshold of each other´s soul,

two willful, ever failing lovers…

 

Past

I saw past the obvious.

Past all the traffic lights,

Screaming red,

throwing their desperate glances

across my way and into my face.

 

I saw past those tiny symptoms of overload,

of the ever-growing loneliness,

eternal existential alone-ness,

being lost between the lines of being kind,

nice, understanding, caring,

between the peacekeeping and appeasement.

 

I saw and felt all of it coming,

all of insomnia,

neck-ache, skin oversensitivity,

drawback, overreaction and bodily numbness.

I knew it all, and yet I saw past it,

How I wished to be blind!

And now it all passed…

Talking of Tennyson: Transience

So runs my dream: but what am I?

An infant crying in the night:

An infant crying for the light:

And with no language but a cry.

(In Memorian A.H.H., 54)

And so I walk across the sites

Of past and present intertwined,

Caleidoscope of shapes and lines,

These labyrinths of shade and light.

.

These labyrinths of day and night,

These human passions carved in stone,

They laught at you before they´re gone

And burst and burn as they collide.

.

They burst and perish – ask not, why.

Scattered across the shingles ashore,

One may not ask nor hope for more.

Nor will, nor soul, nor mind survive.

.

The Sense is conceal´d. Behind the veil –

And what am I to disobey:

All of them, all, who dreamt and prayed,

They all have passed! And so will we…

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?

our rags of light…

Puzzling and humbling:

living them through,

these stolen moments of peace,

of sacred shared-ness

amongst the daily roam.

These tiny emeralds of easiness,

of unexpected fun

of being

simply me

or

simply you.

Cheerful recognition

of those

rags of light

smiling back in the eyes of the other.