And yet, these feelings can never be wrong
for it is as tantalising as a melodious song.
A superfluous need urges my limp heart to ****
And thy picture shalt I curse towards infinite ill.
I pray thee sigh not, speak not, and draw no breath;
let fire burn down, and dream it is not death.
I figure my love could **** thee; yet I am satiated
with seeing thee live, beside me and next to the dead.
I would praise thy body as sweet fruit to eat
and some serpent's mouth would find thee sweet.
I would find grievous ways to have thee slain
in amorous agonies and superfluous pain.
I would kiss away the glories of thy day and night
and creep into thy joy terrific torches of fright.

I am weary of all thy words and reluctant wrath;
I am devoted to thy dumb tunes and semitones of breath.
Like a fool besotted with thy soft and strange ways
Or a horse splattered in blood before the deer it chases.
Of all love's fiery nights and imaginary contours
I shalt cherish the remembrance of thy kisses and hours.
Thy shuddering lips make my heart fly away blind
and water my mouth like evening ale and fruity wine.
Thy golden hair sends my spines shivering
and my whole conscience, wanting touches, whining.
Ah, thou art more to me than all other men at heart,
becoming and full of decorous and monstrous art.
Thy amorous girdle, and flocks of thee and thy fair
Just like the unseen lilies cloven through thy hair.

Nay, sweet, for art thou God alone?
To whom I pray all night and morn,
and as thy wrath filled me with warmth
and thy remorse still rocked me away with charms.
Ah, loveliest as thou art among the chuckling grass
Like a young bud of rose betwixt its eager mass.
Hath thou made t'is earth and all centuries of the sea,
and knitted all the finest natures so fresh and free?
Taught the skies ways to marvel, every pore of beauty
and charmed my very secrets of virginity inside me.
Ah, and lulled the sun to its sleep at the lapses of dawn
before retreating back into thy heaven and divine lawn.
Crafted stars as feet for adorable morning dew
and replenishing every day so all are bright and new.

And thus my very soul is bound to thee,
holier than every branch of the exalted fir tree
Then every tear that thou might shed shalt be replaced
With my tempting kiss and its vibration and new taste.
For now thy spring of leaves is all safe but barren
Betrayed by its own snobbish and rueful garment
And thy blood streams are pricked away by agony
Hurt painfully by her contentment and gluttony
But let me save thee and clap those fears away
Then by thee forever I shalt duly stay
For thee shalt I give the kingdom of my soul
and the very mirror to its astounded wall
And wrap me around and over and under me
Thy thick blessedness and insuperable sea.

In semitones it sang its morning song:
With perfect intonation did it sound
Each pitch-pure shaft of tone to richly confound
The staccato, choppy, chirpy, cheepy throng.
After this phrase of notes sung clear and strong,
A cadence-closing burst of trill unwound,
Shaken out taut and cinching, fast and round,
That lasted to the pure tones doubly long.
More beautiful singing I have never heard,
And yet was I inclined to doubt its worth.
I silenced my mind and listened to the earth,
And this was in the singing of the bird:
If all the world will be the way it is,
Be thankful for the bird that sings like this.

^ ^

This house is
so quiet
(as every single house).
In the morning - with a color.
And the night - with semitones.
I'll love you - it says - in this
town.
With the benches of those in love,
with the poplars in May.,
with the rains.
I'll love you - it says.
And life goes on.

The original:

Къща

Тази къща е
тъй тиха
(като всяка къща).
В утрото – със цвят.
И вечерта – със полутонове.
Ще те обичам – казва – в този
град.
Със пейките на влюбените,
с тополите през май,
със дъждовете.
Ще те обичам – казва.
Животът продължава.


Translator Bulgarian-English: Vessislava Savova
rarebird
© bogpan - all rights reserved.

strike sparks off the hill
tumble down charged, fall
an electric river.

Captured photon tracks
dot glass, world atom
accelerator.

Lost particles,
paper thin blanketed
homeless huddle
in doorways.

Tiny explosions
of heaven's tears
across the nailed lake.

Day ends as fishermen
fold up their green chairs
by a splashed evening water

glowered, puddled.

LURED BY RAIN AND SHADOW


navigate by rain,

gobbets in motion,
their rhythmic fall and beat,
every drop a note,

on pavement,
tarmac, wood,
tile, hollow metal,
close your eyes,
listen to the music,
varied semitones,

blind, you navigate
by the landscape
described by percussion.

Can you hear her contours,
tell the leather, lace
and cloth she wears
by arrangement of sound
in the downpour?

A time when you don't
want the rain to stop
until you can inhale
her sweet fragrance.

And open your eyes.

shadow breathes

see how your shadow moves
across the arc of her arm
your shadow breathes to kiss
away the cold up to her neck

across the cool leather couch
she lounges on to reveal more
of her thighs than is sane
for the blood pump inside you

and your lips press into her neck
and the rise of her ******* through
her little black dress, and thighs
that fall open as you kiss an ear.

A ROSARY

of raindroplets down the window glass.
Contemplate the mystery within
each of these splattered dribbles.

Each holds grains, dried sea salt, dust or smoke ascended skywards from water
or land into swirling eddies of air,

each holds dead cells sloughed,
perhaps by lovers fingers, or
by beasts slouching to Bethlehem,

each holds a prayer for life,
a hymn to its origins, a curse
of flood, a blessing of light.

From Patmos the illustrious San Mikaiyáh or Mija-El could be seen. Him being chosen and predestined for the nations of Patmos and Horcondising endowed in the Ingratia Mol Pétalo de San Miguel for the patronage of the World. He brought the sword Xiphos that shone leaving more than half of the universe without light other than the one that emanated from the Sword of Vernarth. In the honorific aspect, it was shown around the Áspis Koilé that protected Vernarth and all the Hexagonal Progeniture, protected by a Lynothorax and with two Gold cnémidas that protected the tibias of both tired legs, ad portas of the Quattrocento of Dürer of the Sun-Apollo , holding on to this quadrature of the disc or medron of the Ibico 7, to then ignore the cult of Primitive Christianity with the various manifestations of Mikaiyáh for the protectorate of the pontificate between Patmos and Sudpichi being the Sun that will never set in the sunset, as Institiae de Mikaiyah and Vernarth.

Thus began the shoulder of the photoduct of the Ibico 1, which would bring the lustration with Mikaiyáh for whoever was in need of help and remain under his patronage when the Empyrean descended illuminated undermining all the caverns. For such interdiction he would be escorted by Aionius who would lead him through the insensitive darkness escorted by the balenids Kaitelka, and Borker as a demiurgic power tuning the vital stimuli of Demeter, Persephone, and Hestia. Further from the chance of the unknowable that he prostrated himself in the restless souls of Prometheus and Vernarth with chains that would wander through spurious tenors of the uncertain end that is not finite…!

Mikaiyáh as Archangelos will reflect the eternal silhouette of his shadow more enormous than the theoretical universe of Archos "which prevails in the new messages of the perfection of the Celestial Hashem message whose syntax will predominate in the hegemony of Aionius of the Eggelos or Eternity of the angels" with their goodness they multiply themselves with the unification of the pontificate of Patmos and the Horkondising. It would be pointed out in the exegesis how Creation is more than a God, and God more than Creation or Dimiurgia”

Spílaiaus says: “Mikaiyáh has been seen dressed as a soldier with the plumed Phrygian helmet and with his buckler to take the side to predominate all the protectorates of the alpha and omega in his angelic series with the flaming sword Xiphos saying Quis Sicut Deus, we will follow God !! from where Spilaiaus is stunned when he sees that the flaming flames that came to devastate the Empyrean turned towards the Mercurial Ambrosia that spread sulfur throughout all the armored columns that tried to ambush him and attack the antiphon of repercussion for each flash that was launched as siege before Vernarth totally eliminated his retro purging, behold, from the speleothemes rose to the Kardiá of all dens. The second Ibico was approaching turning as sermons through the universe of Patmos and Horcondising beheading all the tricks of the demons of darkness that I will defeat I Spilaiaus "

Mikaiyáh says: “Vélus, from the volatilization of its waters that came from the Eygues, the power of the discomfort will rise in the four Arrows of Zefian, making him the God of Zenit that would attract the semitones of the opacity of the sunrise that he left in his wake when leaving its orbit letting the third Ibico unleash the solemnity of the Castalia in Delphi with tripled water from Ruthenia or from what is today Ukraine for the apothegms of salvation saying "Who is like Me Mikaiyáh". It will be like this for centuries to make my elytra the souls that protect all of Ruthenia from the Impious Invader, burning their homes and the entire generation of their ill-matched ancestors”

Mikaiyáh as it may be will elaborate the egregious defense of all Ruthenia and will redouble the divinization of all the Archangels. Vernarth as Apollo flew with his Laurel wings displaying the grenades of lies that were not able to balance in the hand of the god Ibicus who was extremely shocked. Then Mikaiyáh stares at him and intellectualizes his hasty passing through the centuries and centuries beginning to notice that his flaming flames began to devastate the evil oppressors from the sixteenth century onwards, so that he finally parks in the fortress together with the Ibico four to the quadrature that will be of the perfect Heliacal Ortho in the fourth Ibico with the quadrature of Aurion commanded by Leiak in the cardinal Dyticá, carrying the oikos or Golden threads of Orphi to protect the celestial choirs towards Ruthenia in what was propitious as the final harangue of Vernarth, before being abducted by the Iridescent Nimbus groaning fearlessly on the heights of Ruthenia as Prince of the angelic choirs in Ukraine.

The deity Azofar was dismembered from all the metalloid rows of space to decant them on Ruthenia, and after the fifth element, the universe and the Hyperdisis galaxy would contract to extol him from the neurological hyper brain of the Duoversal of Vernarth, brothering the Mashiach and exemplifying the duplicity of Apollo-like Azofar. The ibico five of his fold would caress the hands of Hector and Achilles to rearm them and join Mikaiyáh as a figure armed with his cuirass, greaves, and his right club that was upset in gestures of fury by the bizarre reddish air that ascended from Kyiv. He would take off his clothes to commend his lieutenant and Vernarth to the primacy of the sky that absorbed fumes of unknown puerile blood with great infants parading headless towards the Limbo of the little ones. Their surnames and pubertal trades rose first to be admitted in the very strong storm of Soul that received them all united by their hands together with the archangels to crush the heads of the atheists who disdained themselves in the murky but implausible believer heights...

The incarnation becomes princely in Mija-The Talmudic as a rebellion against incarnating in the Slavic apostates who evaporated in the presence of the Prince of Yavhe who took up the care of the dignity of creation. His extraordinary power was expelling those who besieged Ayia Sophia, prostrating them to judgment that does not allow second options before the tables of the law. The Ibico six from Kafersesuh traveled at great distances and speed by order of the Lepidoptera deity; being this one that brought thousands of tons of liters from the Red Sea to burn the Slavs and divert them to the Armas Christi for the day of judgment that will make the humiliated exalted in the synagogue that carried Lepidoptera on its elytra before burning the empire of the Slavs, under the shadows of Helleniká and Theoskepasti, where everything was entailed by the greater Ibix called Wonthelimar carrying the Signifiro and not the Vexillum, since the former was a strategic bastion so that Mikaiyáh, together with Lepidoptera, emptied everything from the Slavs, killing them as a vexation of the execrable antichrist, as Slavic swindler angels who appeared to be benevolent but would be revealed behind the wall of Miles Coelestis as a charred Slavic Fallen Angel.

The watchers carried wands of command that were joined to the cinnabar and the Mercurial Ambrosia for the fast of the Antiphon Benedictus so that the divine mask of the Áullos Kósmos is uninterruptedly unleashed. The Ibico 7 in the maximum symmetrical hierarchy was synchronized for the formal solemnity to fulfill the triad of Itheoi Astrágalus, Scabaradeiae, Nothofagus, taking their feet to all the tops of the world hanging and leaving them abandoned with the Himation, destined to the decline of the Scabaraeidae Aphodiniiae as subtractors of all the waste of the souls that have boiled in malignancy, and to the Scabaraeidae Dynastinae as fair larvae that ascend from the imaginary soil to feed on the roots of the Astragalus and on all the flowers and leaves of the Dynastiae. From the Nothofagus it will be the bread of the log with brittle in the souls of the hydrangeas that would lie in wait over Ruthenia with all their physiognomy of trees that would settle in the new root of an emancipated and sovereign town, under the excessive glitter of the Xiphos and the Dorus that would give with brief loans to Vernarth for the immortality of the Watchers Chosen by Mikaiyáh to save Ruthenia.

We touch, and suddenly,
my mouth is the whole me,
and I give everything I know I am
(what remains of me
is everything I don't know).

I found you along the way,
and I found myself, then, happy,
for the chance that gifted me,
for the sky that smiled with all that blue,
happy for the chain reaction
of a cosmic accident,
a divine lapse,
that put us together, there, in the same place,
with all that contained energy,
the spark of a thirsty bomb,
uncontrollable, devastating,
a seducing destruction
of millions megatons,
semitones, shadows and lights,
skin tones,
skin, that I felt
cover my own flesh,
to enfold all my body,
completely blind, dumb and breathless
by a kiss,
as if the grass itself,
that bore our weight,
was our feet
burying and entangling themselves,
feeding just of ground, air, water,
glutting myself of everything I'm not,
like if the world, at that moment,
started to shrink and became small,
a little bouncing (untamed) ball
that we suddenly could reason
all its mysteries and secrets.

Then the air occupies the space between our lips
and everything returns to normal.