A keresés eredménye

For once

While the city
Is still lit up at four
And there's a place to distract you somewhere
A modest place
A little place
 
Don't say no
You are denying yourself paradise
I know the place where the light is a streetlamp for years
And sleep is fun
The only fun thing
 
I know that right now
While they start singing whatever song
While we go to dissipate the heat
They are fighting there
 
What will pay for
The blood the earth absorbs?
Which gold which is not gold of dreams weighs this much?
What can be worth more?
 
What will pay this sweat of time passing?
What time is paying his life time?
Which life is bleeding out of the wound
Of going about this earth for once?
Of going about this earth for once?
Of going about this earth for once
 
When at eleven the sun goes away to the centre of the horror
When orders and goals beg for their wall of rock
When from dark to dark they talk to the action
The word is yours, I stay silent in shame
The word is yours, I stay silent in shame
The word is yours, I stay silent in shame
 
What will pay this sweat of time passing?
What time is paying his life time?
Which life is bleeding out of the wound
Of going about this earth for once?
Of going about this earth for once?
Of going about this earth for once
 

I hope

Versions:
I hope leaves don’t touch your sacred body when they fall
So you can’t make cold ice crystals out of them all
I hope rain stops miraculously kissing your body as it falls
I hope the shy pale Moon dares come out without you
I hope the Earth fails to kiss the steps walked by you
 
I hope you run out of the constant perfect gaze
The precise word to hurt me
The one smile to seduce me
I hope something quite sudden happens to erase you
A blinding lightning bolt
A cannon ball of snow
 
I hope at least death takes me and puts me away
So I don’t see you so much
So I don’t see you always
In each of all my seconds
In each of all my visions
 
I hope I can’t even
Touch you with my music
 
I hope the dawn won’t utter screams that fall on my back
I hope that voice forgets how to whisper your name
I hope the walls don’t keep in your noise of tired and worn footsteps
I hope desire follows you and goes away
To your old tyrant reign of dead men and dead flowers
 
I hope you run out of the constant perfect gaze
The precise word to hurt me
The one smile to seduce me
I hope something quite sudden happens to erase you
A blinding lightning bolt
A cannon ball of snow
 
I hope at least death takes me and puts me away
So I don’t see you so much
So I don’t see you always
In each of all my seconds
In each of all my visions
 
I hope I can’t even
Touch you with my music
 
I hope something quite sudden happens to erase you
A blinding lightning bolt
A cannon ball of snow
 
I hope at least death takes me and puts me away
So I don’t see you so much
So I don’t see you always
In each of all my seconds
In each of all my visions
 
I hope I can’t even
Touch you with my music
 

Oil portrait of a woman with a hat

Versions: #1
A woman has missed out on
Getting to scream and to moan
This beautiful madness has lost a chance to have her brief waist under my own
She has missed my way to hold her hand
She has missed my footprints in her sand.
 
I see a light full of doubts
Which threatens to shroud us in clouds
I see a dog barking up to the Moon with a figure that is reminiscent of mine
I see more I see that it missed me
I see more I see that it got lost.
 
Cowardice is a cover
For a man, not for a lover
Coward loves don't grow to be real loves
Nor even turn to stories, they simply stay there
Not even memories can save them
Not even the best of poets can.
 
An unnameable woman
Flees like a terrified pigeon
And I quickly dry off my old boots, go back to my own roots and turn back the clock
Love beware of me, dismiss me not
I can sing you the song that I've got.
 
A woman who's quite near
Like a painting by none but Chagall
Falling into the center of fear
And I who am not good burst in more than one tear
 
But then I was crying for myself
And now I cry for this woman's death
But then I was crying for myself
And now I cry for this woman's death.
 

For who deserve love.

Versions: #1
My love bothers you, my love of youth,
and my love is an art in virtue.
My love bothers you, my love without a mask (sincere),
and my love is an art of peace.
 
My love bothers you, my love of Humanity,
and my love is an art in its age,
My love bothers you, my love of spring,
and my love is a major Art.
 
My Love,
is my enchanted joyel,
it is my vast abode,
it is my endless space.
My Love,
doesn’t distinguish borders,
like the spring,
doesn’t prefer a garden.
My Love,
it is not a love of market,
because a bleeding love,
it is not a lucrative love,
My Love,
it is All what I have,
if I denied it or sell it,
For what breathe??
 
My love bothers you, my love of youth,
and my love is an art in virtue.
My love bothers you, my love without a mask,
and my love is an art of peace.
 
My love bothers you, my love of Humanity,
and my love is an art in its age.
My love bothers you,
my love of spring,
and my love is a major Art.
 
My Love,
it is not the love of only one,
it is the soul of all that needs heal,
My Love,
it is a humble love,
that the life brought me to make it climb,
My Love,
the most in love,
it is the most forgotten in its ancient pain,
My Love,
open its chest to the death and plays its luck,
for a better time (moment)
My Love!,
This brave Love!,
It is a burning Sun,
For Who Deserve,
Love!!
 

The Dewdrop

Versions: #1
The dewdrop
fell from the sky
And with it my love
cleansed her face.
 
But it was so early
that the sun had not yet risen
And so my love's hands
and cheeks grew cold.
 
I thought that the stars
would seek her out
and frolic upon
her beautiful face.
 
She said 'I'm cold
won't you warm me?'
And I approached with such verve
that I set her heart ablaze.
 
And as I kissed her
she said amid a tremble
'this is what was missing
for the sun to rise again'.
 
Oh dewdrop
Don't stop falling
So that my love
will always want me near.
 
Will always want me near,
- Oh! dewdrop
Will always want me near,
- don't stop falling -
Will always want me near,
- so that my love -
Will always want me near.
 

Sand song

Today I continued heading for my region
taking signs, deciphering crossroads
my body keeps practicing its matter
my bone cracks and the word is made.
Today I continued domesticating reason
which is full of wonder facing the happened day
I project a quick sketch of the action
I outline versions that forgetting captured.
That's why I sing, sand
rock that afterwards is multitude of good water.
And I sing, foam,
crest that when it succeeds in being it isn't anymore.
I put a blade to the longing heart
I throw stars so they spark against winds
the dream unleashed the song
and today's song tastes like an oath to me.
The hurry carries a miracle and it carries error
but we travel on reared up wheels
I woke up in the eye of the cyclone
I count millions of holes in my soul.
That's why I sing, sand
rock that afterwards is multitude of good water.
And I sing, foam,
crest that when it succeeds in being it isn't anymore.
Today I continued heading to my region
with the sweet whip of a bee in my conscience
today I lost loving with a plan
but I won what it broke with caution.
Today I continued rewinding my watch
with its bell bound to an invisible number
I don't really care where my season will break
if, when it breaks it breaks the impossible
That's why I sing, sand
rock that afterwards is multitude of good water.
And I sing, foam,
crest that when it succeeds in being it isn't anymore.
 

Only Love

You must love the clay that goes in your hands
You must love its sand to the point of madness
And if not, do not start what will be in vain
Only love lights what lasts
Only love makes a miracle of mud
Only love lights what lasts
Only love makes a miracle of mud
 
You must love the time of trying
You must love the time when nothing shines
And if not, do not expect to touch what is frozen
Only love engenders wonder
Only love can ignite what is dead
Only love engenders wonder
Only love can ignite what is dead
 
You must love the clay that goes in your hands
You must love its sand to the point of madness
And if not, do not start what will be in vain
Only love lights what lasts
Only love makes a miracle of mud
Only love lights what lasts
Only love makes a miracle of mud
 
You must love the time of trying
You must love the time when nothing shines
And if not, do not expect to touch what is frozen
Only love engenders wonder
Only love can ignite what is dead
Only love engenders wonder
Only love can ignite what is dead
 

Touching the Bottom

Touching the bottom, I was born one good day
Touching the bottom, I still go
Less beautiful than they could be
Less odious than in another way
 
I declare myself imperfect
Kicking the umbrella
I prefer to be open
To walking around, announcing
That I am the wonder
 
I publish myself, complete
I hate myself, likely
If one does not undress
Everything undressable
Changes into a challenge
 
Touching the bottom, like going singing,
Is something deep, that does not go waiting
Not touching our truths hard
Lifting walls, capitals rot
 
Maybe it is inopportune
Or perhaps delirious
I have so many methods
That people try
Just to describe me
 
Assuming the laws
Is not ruling oneself
I publish myself, complete
I await myself, improvable
From my parliament
Of a guitar sounding
 
Touching the bottom, I was born one good day
Touching the bottom, I still go
 

Stay

When this sun goes out
you will part from me.
I will stay alone with my pain
and crying and crying.
My conviction is to never love again,
because
the same story is again
and again and again and again.
 
Stay,
stay so I can live without crying,
without crying.
 
When I undeceive myself
I don't know if I'll live.
because it's very sad to only have
crying and crying,
and a thousand resignations in the heart
that implores
that some time someone stays.
and it cries.
 
My conviction is to never love again,
because
the same story is again
and again and again and again.
 
Stay,
stay so I can live without crying,
without crying.
 

Tail of clouds

If they told me say a wish,
I'd prefer a tail of clouds,
a whirlwind on the ground
and a great rage rising.
 
A sweeper of sadnesses,
a downpour of vengeance
that when it clears up might
look like our hope.
 
If they told me say a wish,
I'd prefer a tail of clouds
to take away the ugly
and leave us with the cherub.
 
A sweeper of sadnesses,
a downpour of vengeance
that when it clears up might
look like our hope.
 

River

Where do I put what I've found?
In the streets, the books
the night, the visages
in which I have searched for you.
 
Where do I put what I've found?
in the earth, in your name
in the Bible, in the day
in which I finally found you.
 
What do I say to death
so many times called to my side
that at the end
my sister has returned?
 
What do I say to the empty glory
of being alone
making up the sad
making me the wolf?
 
What do I say to the moon
that I believed to be my companion
of nights upon nights
without being truthful?
 
What do I do with you now?
the pigeons that go off
to sleep in the parks
no longer speak with me.
 
What do I do with you now?
Now that you are the moon
the dogs, the night
all my friends.
 

I want you free

I want you free,
free and with love,
free from the shadows
but not from the sun.
 
I want you free
like how I lived you,
free from other worries
and free from me.
 
Freedom has a clear soul
and only sings when it beats its wings.
It flies and it sings, freedom.
Freedom was born without owner
and who am I to fill up its every dream.
 
I want you free
and with good faith,
so that you may lead
your precious thirst.
 
I want you free,
free from truth,
free like the dream
of freedom.
 
Freedom has a clear soul
and only sings when it beats its wings.
It flies and sings, freedom.
Freedom was born without owner
and who am I to fill up its every dream.
 
I want you free
like how I lived you,
free from other worries
and free from me.
 

Story of the Chairs

At the edge of the road there is a chair,
thievery prowls around that place.
The friend's coat is laid aside,
the friend does not sit down to rest.
His shoes, worn down, are mirrors
that burn his throat with the sun.1
And through his fatigue an old man goes by
who dries, with his shadow, the sweat.
 
At the tip of love the friend travels,
to the sharpest point that there is to see.
That same point that digs into the ground,
into the ruins, into a woman's trail.
That is why he is a soldier and a lover,
that is why he is wood and he is metal.
That is why the same one plants roses,
as well as reasons for flags and arsenal.
 
The one who has a song will have a storm
The one who has company, loneliness.
The one who follows a good path will have
dangerous chairs that invite him to stop.
But the song is worth a good storm,
and the company is worth the loneliness.
The agony of haste is always worth it,
even if the truth is filled with chairs.
 

• 1. shoes that reflect the sun is a metaphor for saying he is thirsty

And nothing more

This strange evening,
through my window,
brings the old breeze
of morning.
 
There is nothing here:
Only a few days that are willing to pass,
Only an evening that allows to breath
A little moment huge in life.
Then see the reality and nothing more.
 
And nothing more.
 
Now it seems to me as if
I have lived
For many centuries
Through old paths
 
There is nothing here:
Only a few days that are willing to pass,
Only an evening that allows to breath
A little moment huge in life.
Then see the reality and nothing more.
 
And nothing more.
 

Winter Song

It's a cold day and you arrive at home
You come in the afternoon sad on a Thursday.
The furniture, your dog, and millions of eyes
are, like always, waiting for your return,
you sense that nothing has changed.
The same thing awaits you, the dream has passed.
 
You gather your hair, so free in the afternoon,
Maybe because someone never saw it imprisoned
You sit and eat dinner, and all the blame
Weighs you down more than your strengths,
And your eyes struggle in this crazy afternoon
Until you are weak and cover your mouth.
 
When everything passes you think you are safe,
while, with your hours, you stir up ashes.
Inside you feel forbidden passions
You don't mind lying to feel happy,
Until a wish gets into your bed.
But, what are you thinking? --you cover your chest.
 
But you need to look good with everything
--everything that isn't good with yourself.
The anxiety is the price of being yourself:
Better to be happy like our parents
And make pity an eternal love.
Until, at last, winter covers you.
 

The painter of women and suns

The painter of women and suns
abandoning himself with a stubborn clarity
made his last voyage, already very much alone
over the Atlantic
and was buried when he arrived.
The painter, brilliant as the moon,
with his long hair, and his beard encrusted with dust,
spit cancer from a painting
and set the date of his farewell.
 
And he kept on loving
even though he was not loved, perhaps, not as a human being
And he kept on learning
the path of solitude at every moment
And he left in the company of mysterious beings
with his long hair and his beard encrusted with dust,
crying out over their souls
while the pious ones made the sign of the cross.
And he had no churches,
but there were something like altars to love
among his canvases.
And in this fantastical world, he went communing
on his way to the Universe.
 
The painter of streaming light
inscribed his final marks
in sorrow and despair.
And left what remained to his friends,
asking them only for a wall to hang it on.
 

What really matters

Versions: #1#2
What matters least are all the secrets
that I sense, smell or touch and I always respect you.
What matters least is that I never have too much of you,
that your love enriches me, while it makes me poorer.
What matters least is that your feelings
aren't in harmony with my rebirth
What matters least is long solitude
What matters least is how much heart.
 
(Chorus)
What matters least is my reason
What matters least is even your nevermore
as long as I can sing my love
attempting to catch
the words that tell what really matters
 
Amorous, in a way that doesn't smear
in verse and melody I appeal to revenge
My spite will kiss your life
whether you are the loneliest or the most loved
Wherever you jump or turn around,
there, will be a second of me for you to sigh it up
Is the pledge of long loneliness
is the pledge of how much heart.
 
(Chorus)
 
Little bird, dolphin of my two roses,
scare away the hits and not the butterfly
Exercise your dance on my waist,
incomparable scent, oh bread of my madness
With your body dressed by my hands,
I’ll make up a new childhood by the sea.
From across the sea I’m telling you this in solitude,
from across the sea, a heart is launching it to you.
 
(Chorus)