"mildstone" poems
time was yellow at that day
like a leaf
and the woman gave birth to betrayal
pure of mother-of-pearl so shown
seven harvesting of grapes have been passed
with cries and shrieks
while seven periods had been overthrown
time was walking lame at that day
although it is said to be ****** red
the snake was born at once
waters have withdrawn slowly / lacking fell down
that day
northwestwinds have choked a flame
gracefully in an ambush
and the mill stopped, got down
stopped as if waiting for bunches
of fame,
for dawn
and stopped the mill
which did not sleep for seven days
Translated by: Richard Mildstone
Nov 19, 2009
Nov 19, 2009 at 1:29 PM UTC
I come every morning to the beginning of this street
thinking that you will pass from here
I wait, wait, and wait…
when you are seen from far
my heart does not fit to its cage,
tulips bloom in me…
an inexplicable warmth embraces my body
I burn from top to toe…
I do not see who is on the street, I cannot see.
I do not see the trees
and when you approach
freezes my blood, freezes my mind
freezes my soul…
everything freezes in me
you just pass by,
it does not change anything whether I exist or not
it does not matter for you, for the world
or for the sun
when I return home
I carry a dream with me…
there is still a reason again
to overcome the dark and cold night
still a reason for me,
another reason to reach tomorrow morning,
I will run again,
I will run again the following morning
to the beginning of the same street
Translated by: Richard Mildstone
Nov 19, 2009
Nov 19, 2009 at 10:05 PM UTC