Глава

Metaphorical, ravenous chaos,

you feed on the innocent remnants,

of lineages and of those without inheritance;

what mighty winds speak

as they rage round us.

This I know: that we are never alone

this I know: that a psalm is our sword

until the trials pass,

until the jaws of the destroyer are shattered,

my soul is crushed.

Shall it awaken?

Yes. It will awaken.

Глава

This I know: that we are never alone

this I know: that a psalm is our sword

until the trials pass,

until the jaws of the destroyer are shattered,

my soul is crushed.

Shall it awaken?

Yes. It will awaken.

Глава

Limbic

Luminous huts, people in rapture

in the pronounced days of satire —

they yearn to imbibe truth

yet cannot,

for the skin constricts

upon their foreheads.

Memory often disguises itself

as rage; thoughts snarl

they recall the unspeakable,

they roam through squares,

of pleasure, with the hues,

and sheen of that time.

Alerts spin in the streets

in the neighborhoods of the head

in the mountains of the brain,

I see it from above —

from an uninspired sky

I can see it.

Глава

This cathedral, brimming with prose,

has new idols, fashioned as always

by the fear of the absolute,

ruled by the dread,

men go without love.

One wishes to flee and cannot

the wicked schizoid vaunts of me;

I strive to carve a way out

and the panes of glass that compose

the somber palace,

they glisten as if they were

halos of phosphorescence,

unsettling my fleeting naïveté.

In the squares of that park,

summer has withered the verdure

I see only a few trees,

I hope they remain forever,

Yet it shall not be so.

Where do my emotions perish?

Глава

Megara

I have heard nothing of it;

there is but a single copy of the same;

it’s like speaking of diaphanous poetry

when the earth sways with iniquity,

and I do not think that verse

about the skin is what I yearn to read.

In the northern realm of literature,

I have sought to learn from the wise,

yet wisdom was not to be found

in the volumes, nor will in their wills,

nor joy in their desires,

and at times I disdain them.

I have not said ‘yes’ to everything,

nor have I said ‘no’ many times;

I seek not to impede the good,

the good that heals wounds

when raging fires besiege the dwellings.

Глава

Those children, gifts from heaven,

smile and play beyond Theognis,

beyond that heartless conspirator

of poetry;

instead of guiding minds,

he further corrupted the innocent light.

How can we disarm the wicked?

How much depravity snorts the air!

they furtively conceal evil with laws,

they overthrow governments

so they can swoop down like vultures to feast

upon the vulturine remains

of this century.

They devise formulas, ignoring variables;

unethical entities,

cities of vice;

they throw wide open the doors to stupidity,

to the deranged who converse with the wall

to judge humanity.

Глава

There are always forms of wickedness;

some hoard science and stars,

others erect castles upon the rocks

on slopes pointed towards the sun,

which they deem impregnable,

when all shall be melted;

there are always forms of evil–

look at the history of humankind

and say, ‘this one yes, this one no.’

What shall those born today eat?

There is money to spare in some homes,

homes to spare in some hands,

ill decisions to spare.

You, human, who conceive of philosophy;

you who seek truth,

you who speak of chaos,

you who feel like a new Acropolis,

you who deem yourself wise,

you who pray in a temple,

you who fashion colour

who possesses vineyards,

who tames oxen —

when shall you truly love?

Глава

The focus of a long tunnel

I saw you fly into a rage;

you seemed to be sleeping peacefully,

you were trembling in your dreams;

that perfectly ordinary day,

with a blue sky and flowers

by the wayside, you seized a knife

and I shuddered with fear.

You spoke of a bit of everything, nonstop –

the sea and the storm –

you glared with hatred,

with fury in your dilated pupils,

and like a child, you played alone;

the world made another being ill.

How to conquer the world

without being harmed, without harming

the world that flirts without naïveté,

its vain rotations greying,

deliberately always turning

here and there.

Глава

The vastness of the sea dazzles my soul;

sun gleams on an endless expanse of water;

human fishers probe into that ebb and flow, eclogues flow,

hoarding mystery in the clouds

like angels with swords

from the vast sea, and vengeful winds

whirl, filled with intense fury;

they brandish their weapons

to shatter the one who became

their foe; hurricanes sweep

in from the sea

and advance towards the land of dreams.

How can one beg in this world

if people are so unkind?

The damage affected the nerve tissue;

whilst others walk the streets,

parading like corpses.

How can one explain unusual reactions

when dreams become obsessive?

On that rainy day,

with a sky thick with clouds,

you could not go out —

yet you did.