TEXT 7 Z 14
SVETLUSKA
Slunecnik: Jdu uz odplout do raje
snu. Vstavam v sest a ceka me perny
day. Good night my dream
Antonio. M.
They say you dream of me at night,
How does the face still hidden to you appear?
Good God – just not like the one I'm hungry for,
Yours – that night-terror – that criminal arsonist.
My head is tangled with the tales of weavers,
Who stitch eternally, just never to lovers' orders,
Who from an order of love glue together a clump
Of phantoms – they sway the dreamy branches of the woods.
And from their crowns flies a flock of night-murs
Whispering monstrous words and touching feelers
Across my sleepy lips. Without those monsters
I could do without hearing that song!
The wings of a Hawk-moth in flight with a light flutter
Words are singing about our love – and dust
Out of its pouches it covers my bed,
It just quietly drifts down – and makes its bed on my alluring body.
It sits for a while and just stares – and then – out of nowhere
Nothing caresses me with its wings and pours familiar
Words. And in bliss I cry out, You villain!
I know it, I'm nursing a Sunshade to my bosom!
Yet with every syllable of yours upon my body
A burn blister rises and then – Poof!
Poof! Poof! More of them boldly rise.
Yet I feel the stinging – such bitter air.
Words of passion fall upon me like asteroids,
Causing only pain, cold – and craters
They are the only memory left of them. I choose
You alone, my Love, and if you know
Of a greater sacrifice for her—speak up without delay!
Let my hair burn and let me glow brighter through the night
Than world-famous comets—betroth the stars
To the ecstatic gleam of my pupils!
Next time you come to visit again at night,
I will love you once more. Just promise me,
Or no – don't promise – just quiet the light
And like a firefly be gentle with me.
For only she knows how to shine without fire
And she will not burn my palm upon a kiss.
I'll end up with her again – oh no
In eternal swampy dreaming!
It seems I have high demands in love
And that could lead to my ruin,
Better come again as a moth – in a dark mask
And kiss me until dawn again.
Parasol: Dear Angel, now I
woke up, turned on his phone – and overwhelmed
by messages from dear Antonín Deliš. For
the conjured smile I am grateful.
