Premature Awakening

/, Blesok no. 59/Premature Awakening

Premature Awakening

Premature Awakening
A Child"s Confession
The Smell of Morel For my father
Warm Blood
Would You Like Some Water?
Water, oh Yes!
The Great Mother

I don’t know how to tell
a single tale
calmly. Why, for example
dose the hunter who saves Little Red Riding Hood,
like any other small character
necessarily for the denouement,
have to leave in the end?

How is it possible that in the The Red Flower
the ugly beast turns into a handsome young man?
Which one of them is an illusion?
Am I touched by the magic of change
or the shudder that I must suffer in disgrace
before I become loved by someone?
How many people in the world
remain unchanged, men mostly
because the woman is the one
who connect them?

The man is desired for, the woman too
and so the excitement of telling
goes on endlessly
the language becomes warm like blood
blossoming lasciviously
hardening the obscene
twisting like an eel
perfect when naked
without a shirt, a shell
as if just born from the worm.

Oh, let my tale be shameless
let disharmony be eternal,
between the appearance and the essence
there are tales of magic
where there is nothing I could tell
with calm and indifference!

2018-08-21T17:23:03+00:00 May 10th, 2008|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 59|0 Comments