wind opens the door. we’ve probably done all we could
shooting one another, like prophets. we hid our treasure
in ridged bark. let those who don’t count look for one another.
the ones who won’t pay. exorbitant sums and masses
will always collide, dear appalled woman.
let’s then let those who don’t count seek for themselves. and why
shouldn’t you buy a bottle of chilli? you’ll visit germany
and get married? go put some iodine on your eye lids
and take a walk. your back to the moon. the sky is after all
and now to the mundane. come down from the roof woman.
you’re no comic book heroine though you speak in bubbles.
notoriously. the way happens to follow a crack in the niche,
our allies will say it is so when the wind carries streets on
further: leaves to base – base to heaven. it’s now. a triangle
and that’s it? a tangible something misses the point and this
must be enough for you. for now look about just like that. in fact,
we are in a desert, dear visualised female.
they’ve gone from here. a snake made of gold dust, sat himself
on his head just so. camels have taken up a dreaming position
while rains of grass hoppers fly towards the flash
today, you’ll be fragrant and willing, a woman
pliant and flexible. bend yourself carefully,
the challenge is to dose with caution.
let’s say the passage appears. and there
the phantom sent down to the swelled balcony
tries to transcribe you onto waves of navy
syllable by syllable, condemned to thought
less schemes which act like breakers in a socket
I possess rhythm. I invert the chessboard,
parting the walls and wondering at myself.
what involvement etches these diagrams:
do you want to be my mate? a checked bishop?
you must be born, move, free from base,
death carries sequences and repeats series.
and yesterday, woman, your body acted upon
dreams threaded along syncretic lines
and you’re back? don’t move. in this silentsteel house between floors
links showing off a ghostly ball. the lift empty, and the upholsterer outside
the window managed to imprint a shadow on the azure sari.
attraction works. it seems the roof did not last the winter and fell
on hans at lunchtime. meanwhile, you made it back from delhi, aired the
upper violet tracts, dispelled the mists.
breathe evenly, nothing will harm you, out of the hype emerges a jasmine girl
who will soothe, will dance a laugh. reel around, life is also about
having your own territory, fun and line
to own holes.
you’re pitiful, girl. fawning like leaves in hair.
you must control your movements, nef. fragmentally.
and that which you see has the parameters of a cage, is exposed
and is called a dream.
by night we will be hit back. the disk will let slip some
cream cows, their eyelashes fluttering against the winds.
just like immovable goddesses on meadows. nef,
I like to laugh along with you. but go to sleep. for here comes
a siesta session, a red sun beneath the bathrobe lining,
which goes loose and wanders like any day. and again
your speech goes tumbling. apply a filter, paper
and dew on your lips. and silence this now woman.
we’re taking a walk, the rain has stopped
and the square glistens profoundly. take care,
the sun burns your back by surprise.
one day, I will go past the end. the mat
dragging along the corridor, and there
I’ll ask for the niche. an extra breath.
confide in me. oh hermetic woman, show me
where the poppies bloom. I have no faces left.
this town is like a silent film, every single day
the same flow tries to shadow the scenery,
take out another leaf. the lips spilling the same,
lining up shouts. turn me out. lose
as the hand-outs start, synchronized
cage by cage.
translated by Marek Kazmierski
Asia Obstarczyk – born in 1976, has lived in Belgium for the past seven years where she also became friends with poetry: nostalgia has got her writing. By day, she is a musician and the occasional translator of Dutch writings.
|Asia Obstarczyk – Urodzona w 1976, od siedmiu lat mieszka w Belgii i tutaj też zaprzyjaźniła się z poezją: z nostalgii zaczęła pisać wiersze. Na co dzień zajmuje ją muzyka a okazjonalnie tłumaczenia niderlandzkie.|