TEXT 2 Z 14
LEDOVE MLCENI
Mesicnik: Ja to tusil –M– dalsi M meho
of life. I am a poet torn by a desire for
life, love etc. etc. And the creator – a god..
something like Rimbaud – no – he is
a fiend.
Měsíčník: I'll tell you and you will
neodpovite. Necht:
I know – my icy silence kills you every second,
You dig your fingers into the pillow, one moment with pleasure, the next with rage.
Yet – through my icy silence, suffering fades away,
Perhaps he'll leave – perhaps you'll say goodbye to your grief.
You, you, you cannot even imagine my suffering,
How could I possibly fall in love with your words
Without knowing your face – Moor
Perhaps you are, and your eyes colder, alas, than metal,
Eyes colder than my icy silence.
So be it! I love your Moorish face,
Ugly eyes; I fall asleep curled up in cramps,
My bloodless fingers will not revive the glow of the mobile phone.
Mesicnik: You see, you're silent, no one
understood it.
Slunecnik: I'm not silent, I was just eating pizza.
A ted bych chtel vedet vic
informaci – Kolik ti je let odkud ses a neco
o sobe. Tak honem pis at neco vim a
netapu ve tme.
