Резултати претраге

The Third Mother

Mothers singing, mothers singing
A Thunder fist melts. A strong silence
In the empty streets they marched in rows
red bearded lenterns
 
A Fatal autumn, an exerted and unconsulted autumn
and a rain without an end or a begining
and without a candle by the window and without a light in the world
singing
three mothers
 
and the one says:
- I have just seen him
I will kiss every small finger and a nail
a boat walks in the silent ocean
and my son is hanged on top of the pole
 
and the second says:
- My son is big and silent
and I'm here, stitching holiday clothes for him
He is walking in the fields, He will arrive to here
He carries in his heart a led bullet
 
and the third mother wanders with her eyes
- I didn't had a dear like him
How shall I cry for him and I don't see
I do not know where is he
 
Than the cry washes her eyelashes:
- and maybe hes not yet rested. and maybe
he measures with kisses, as a devoted monk
the path of your world, my lord
 

You Hear

You hear, the wind is foreign and autumnal
A guest is marching towards a house that turned pale
If you're facing the window, or sewing, or weaving,
Turn off the light and lie down.
 
You fall asleep, and I will enter and have a seat.
I will sit on the floor
To look at you.
Silent and strange in your peaceful room
I wait for you like your footwear.
 
Then you will wake up with an enemy glow,
For in your sleep my God has passed
Then you will awaken,
And two bad dreams
Will slowly come nearer,
Hold you in their hand
And lead you to me.
 

Oriana

When Oriana asked me
When will we meet again at the square,
I laughed and said - Mañana,
I laughed and said - Tomorrow.
But by the time it's tomorrow, Oriana,
Everything's all too foreign.
Love has passed, Oriana,
It fled to who knows where,
It hates it when [people] say - Tomorrow,
It wants them to say, Oriana,
Tonight, right now, soon.
 
So I've waited incessantly ever since
And not once, with a broken and bitter heart,
Did I say: I may have mistaken,
This needs to be fixed tomorrow.
But so wished the days, Oriana,
And my youth has passed.
The years went by, Oriana,
They fled to who knows where,
They hate it when [people] say - Tomorrow,
They want them to say, Oriana,
Tonight, right now, soon.
 
In the meantime I've tried to gather
Assets and honor and all the rest,
But none has come yet,
Every day they promised - Tomorrow.
So life flew by, Oriana,
Washed away like flowing sand,
Life has passed, Oriana,
It fled to who knows where,
Because it hated to say - Tomorrow,
Because it wanted you in it, Oriana,
Tonight, right now, soon.
 
If my last day would come, Oriana,
To tell me it is the end, it is over,
I would laugh and tell it - Mañana,
I would laugh and say - Come tomorrow.
But my last day, Oriana,
Will say that tomorrow is no more.
The tomorrow has passed, Oriana,
It fled to who knows where,
But it has always rememberd you,
Because it loved you, Oriana,
Tonight, right now, soon.
 

The Maiden

The maiden was silently spinning on the spindle
A crimson string like a pomegranate split open,
And the king said in his heart:
'She's weaving me clothes of royalty'.
 
The maiden was silently spinning on the spindle
A black string that darkens the light of day,
And the robber in the prison said:
'She's weaving me clothes for the gallows'.
 
The maiden was silently spinning on the spindle
A golden string like the glinting swords,
And the acrobat said on the way,
'She's weaving me clothes for my play'.
 
The maiden was silently spinning on the spindle
A gray string, which is the father of all coverings
And the beggar and his dog said:
'She's weaving us mourning clothes'.
 
So she weaved the strings of the spindle
The maiden, and put them all together,
And she went down to the creek
And bathed her unblemished flesh.
 
And she wore what she had woven
For a dress, and turned ever-beautiful,
And since then she is a robber and a king
And an acrobat and a beggar.