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Портрет мужчины

Dielo neznámeho majstra v Louvri

Má oči ako v hĺbke skryté plesá
či ako opustené cárske dvory,
znamenie veľkej hanby na ňom skvie sa,
o Bohu absolútne nehovorí.

Krivka jeho pier – purpurová rana
od čepele a jedovatej masti,
zomknutá dávno, smútkom opantaná
pozýva skúsiť nepoznané slasti.

A ruky, bledý mramor luny v splne,
skrývajú hrôzy pradávneho trestu,
bývali dievčat-čarodejníc plné
a posielali na krížovú cestu.

Osud mu do vienka dal zvláštnu vlohu –
byť túžba vrahova i básnikova.
Možno keď narodil sa, na oblohu
krvavú červeň liala supernova.

V duši má stovky rokov staré zvady,
smútky, čo nedajú sa pomenovať,
Kypride ani panne za ich sady
nevydá spomienky, čo v srdci chová.

Je zlostný, nie však zlobou heretika,
nežná je farba jeho hladkej kože,
od smiechu kútikmi mu zľahka myká,
no plakať… plakať viac už ťažko môže.


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Giraffe

Today I can see that your look is especially sad / And your arms are especially fragile, as if made of chaff. / Listen, my dear: far away, by the shores of Lake Chad, / Roams the exquisite giraffe. / / It was granted the gift of proportion, voluptuous grace, / And its skin is adorned wi...

Sixth Sense

Fine the wine that loves us, / Good bread baked for our sakes / And the women who torment and tease / Yet please us and in the end let us take them. / / But what do we do with the red / Hue of sunset that lets the sky grow cold / With blue in a still, strange serenity? / What to do ...

The Streetcar That Lost Its Way

While walking down a strange street / I suddenly heard the cawing of crows, / Distant thunder, and the tones of a lute - / Here came a streetcar flying past. / / How I managed to leap to its step / Is beyond me - even in the bright / Daylight it spewed behind itself / In the atmosph...

Pre-Memory

So this is all of life! Whirling, singing. / Oceans, metropolises, deserts, / A desultory reflection / Of what is lost forever. / / A flame rages, trumpets trumpet, / And chesnut-colored horses race, / Then the agitating lips / Of happiness, it seems repeat. / / And sorrow and ...

A Baby Elephant

Right now my love for you is a baby elephant / Born in Berlin or in Paris, / And treading with its cushioned feet / Around the zoo director's house. / / Do not offer it French pastries, / Do not offer it cabbage heads, / It can eat only sections of tangerines, / Or lumps of sugar an...

Words

In the old days, when God cast down / His gaze upon the just created earth, / Words stopped the sun, / Words tore down whole towns. / / The terror-striken stars / huddled round the moon / When words, like pink flaming tongues / Floated down through air. / / The lower levels of ...