A keresés eredménye

The Brown Yearling

Once, there is a brown yearling. His name was Brown-Yearling
He was always taking away boys and girls to the Great Dream City.
He was taking away them every night. Every boy and girl wanted to climb on the Brown-Yearling
One night he met a boy.
The boy said :
- Take me away, small horse, to the Great Dream City.
- Climb ! Said the Brown -Yearling.
The boy climbed, and they left galloping, galloping, galloping.
Soon they met on the path a girl.
The girl said:
- Take me away, small horse , to the Great Dream City.
- Climb by my side, said the boy.
The girl climbed, and they left galloping, galloping, galloping.
Soon they met on the path a white dog.
The white dog said :
- Woof, woof, woof woof ! To the Great Dream City I want to go, straddle.
- Climb ! Said the children.
The white dog climbed, and they left galloping, galloping, galloping.
Soon, they met on the path, a black kitten.
The black kitten said :
Miaow, Miaow, Miaow! To the Great Dream City I want to go, because it’s already dark.
- Climb ! Said the children and the white dog.
The black kitten climbed, and they left galloping, galloping, galloping.
Soon they met on the path a grey squirrel.
The squirrel said :
- Take me, you, please, to the Great Dream City, where there is no sorrow or pain.
- Climb ! Said the children, the white dog and the black kitten.
The grey squirrel climbed, and they left galloping, galloping, galloping.
Galloping and galloping they did, leagues and leagues of way.
Everyone was very happy.
Everyone was singing and singing and singing.
The boy said :
- Quick, quick ! Brown-Yearling, go faster.
But the Brown-Yearling couldn’t go faster.
The Brown-Yearling was going slowly, slowly, slowly….
He was arrived to the Great Dream City.
The children, the white dog, the black kitten and the grey squirrel were sleeping.
Everyone was sleepy when the Brown-Yearling was arriving to the Great Dream City.
 

Final Sonnet

For un-feathering the glacial archangels,
the barbed-lily snowfall of slender teeth
is condemned to the weeping of fountains
and the sadness of well-springs.
 
For diffusing its soul into metal,
for the fire to grant its sunrise to iron,
the torrential blacksmiths’ draw it
to the sorrow of harsh anvils.
 
To the painful sting of the thorn,
to the fatal discouragement of the rose,
and the corrosive action of dying,
 
I see myself given, and all this ruin
is for no other misfortune, no other reason
than loving you, and only loving you.
 

Lullaby of the Onion

Versions: #2
The onion is frost
shut in and poor.
Frost of your days
and of my nights.
Hunger and onion,
black ice and frost
large and round.
 
My little boy
was in hunger's cradle.
He was nursed
on onion blood.
But your blood
is frosted with sugar,
onion and hunger.
 
A dark woman
dissolved in moonlight
pours herself thread by thread
into the cradle.
Laugh, son,
you can swallow the moon
when you want to.
 
Lark of my house,
keep laughing.
The laughter in your eyes
is the light of the world.
Laugh so much
that my soul, hearing you,
will beat in space.
 
Your laughter frees me,
gives me wings.
It sweeps away my loneliness,
knocks down my cell.
Mouth that flies,
heart that turns
to lightning on your lips.
 
Your laughter is
the sharpest sword,
conqueror of flowers
and larks.
Rival of the sun.
Future of my bones
and of my love.
 
The flesh fluttering,
the sudden eyelid,
and the baby is rosier
than ever.
How many linnets
take off, wings fluttering,
from your body!
 
I woke up from childhood:
don't you wake up.
I have to frown:
always laugh.
Keep to your cradle,
defending laughter
feather by feather.
 
Yours is a flight so high,
so wide
that your body is a sky
newly born.
If only I could climb
to the origin
of your flight!
 
Eight months old you laugh
with five orange blossoms.
With five little
ferocities.
With five teeth
like five young
jasmine blossoms.
 
They will be the frontier
of tomorrow's kisses
when you feel your teeth
as weapons,
when you feel a flame
running toward your gums
driving toward the centre.
 
Fly away, son, on the double
moon of the breast:
it is saddened by onion,
you are satisfied.
Don't let go.
Don't find out what's happening,
or what goes on.