my poetry, translated

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my poetry, translated

Postby Fixed Cross » Sat May 08, 2021 9:15 pm

I am a dragon that is slaughtered every night
and as a son of God rises again from the fire of sleep
the ashes of the morning

why I exist is the gray of the moon
veiled in vigilant meaninglessness
invisible crystals in the earth light up

The Tree of Wrath, in spring green
still watching over that sacrifice
the vomiting gate of heaven drives out horses

(I remember the taxi ride
the patrician's happiness that night
while the war awaited)

Anger is never unleashed again
I fear in my smoldering heart
and beg the black night for wind.







-



It's so sweet clinging
my heart wrung out
Recently I saw the eagle
I managed to spare myself and her
I fought the sweet with the best
from all over the kingdom of Heaven
but now I'm standing, in my boots
in the field.

I don't stir my coffee like I did then
I wait for the labor and sink into the present
the future becomes invisible
I was never happier than for a second
life could be so soft to me
who seemed strong to myself and breathed
and gazed into the light in which crows
gathered for the great retreat
which would follow later with a screech
that I never forget.


-



Rolling shoulders
breathable ways
good jobs
future on your lap

calm efforts
released and repackaged in the curve

Eager
stay calm
we are here



-





Sneaky purple
glowing bubbles shimmering
in the scanty arc
of diament, high tide line, relief
by wife, rescue in need of decision
no more death no more eternal death
for a while

figurehead unviable
proud twilight in the night
wet in the rain park, stealthy in the grass
bordering on supremacy
an earthworm

the controversial debate is stealthily
the
wheelbarrow is different
from itself and therefore differs from 1

We cannot then conclude
that we cannot ascertain
that which rests in this value
will be a wandering target

how to find
this shovel
in the dark?

the signs are indicated
time has passed

Scream now



-



Irish glow
The alley
around and sigh
bald
Irish

Tweeds
go around the world like aces
snow evaporates

Yawn

The morning dawned on Vultures
condemned to death by fate
by flags, bears and castles
Irish miracles

The breech block closes properly
The one west
from the east of the night
of lost souls

Despaired immediately shining
anointed, cany servants share
the laundry, in the old hole

Do we get together? If this laughed inwardly
inside out
I split
the earth
too not
in gouwerblijn
or whatever that means

say without eloquence
or eloquence without saying
the sinners are the criminals
of will

The city is in the bud
Violet
gold glow
educational, dark worthy, trust
consolation, tears, weeping willow concert
why does this exist?
No answer.




-



steel bridge
A bridge is dedicated to me
by me of course from me to me to me
if I

Time, are, concrete,
root, deep, I guess
stone cracks open
grass grows sap

the world that exists
completely ignores the scum
the howling canaille
insulting the day

that night is eternal
where eagles are made of stone
their pride captured in their beaks
staring in reverence for their reverence
and so on, in the cold dark
owned by silver stars.




-



no riddle but me
(logos)

Through a crack in the curtain
I look outside on the yellow stone
hidden in the green trees
bathed in the icy air

This view, petrified, like a picture of a painting
on the wall of my still life
where it is dewy inside
because lilies dance

(neuros)

My mind pierces through clouds
like lightning that seeks and finds paths
and roars and creaks and yawns
after he crushes everything.

Dust descends, rises,
blows away and unveils
the chaos with in the middle
A spiky fortress, rising, defying.

Goblins whine sharply
tongues whips the high sky
the sun sets as king
Orange cleaves an ashes

Some people get in
have conversations with tongues
low, but proud as buildings
that resist the wrath of Wotan.

A baby now just cries the stone
still stares at me
indifferent, conversational
water creeps through pipes

I think about the wrath of Venus
the jagged edges of love
glorious fountains
soiled with sweat and washed

I am thinking of old walls
high but not too high and gold
domes like suns, immortalized
through man's sacred misdeeds

Then I think about streets again
with people in skirts and boots
and walls and shops and glasses
and a voice that recognizes me in itself.




-



since that platform
The wind blows backwards in the lost sight
the ball of fate bounces back and forth
the valve is precarious on the outside

I stare at the dock in my memory
I see the gray stones that are now blooming
imagine the greenery that I did not see then

The flow is still calm
footsteps still sound hollow and spacious
no longer my wings cling to the web.




-





Capricorn
Treasure by touch
your skirmish
your hat in the snow
that's how it is

the tree is standing
that's done
the moon shines
to

to whom has come
like eleven pillars
decayed to grit
on his hoof



-





Mother of Pearl Freighter
Unbearable antics
separated from my certain soul
consume my vaults
my crumbling primeval tree

the great grace of conscience
the genie in the bottle at sea
only seen by a pirate
and completely ignored.

An island washes up in the field of vision
and footsteps in the sand
people have been here, forbidden
they sang hymns to dead wealth

I'm lost here now
to anyone who ever left me
on the beach with bare feet
in the eternally returned song

creature, fiery ball, red
born of a raging flower
propelling star, you thing
at the basis of impossible angelic song

we cannot fail, this binds us
in spite of jerking horsepower
razor-sharp chains and cruelty
in the slowly drifting desert sand

We are not here where they are pointing
nor there where one goes
together, in sturdy caravans
in the divine midday sun

we can be found across slopes
signs appeared in caves
a smile reflected in pools
time steals its food

Enter this pearl freighter
sing your prayers, let your song be heard
about the cruel waves
it will not go unnoticed.




-



ludicrous danger
Endless rescue leads upstream
by nights surrounded by cool death
along banks that cannot exist without an oath
which no one is willing to discard yet

No, not a maid this time, man
no justice in broad daylight
no raucous shout in the town square
but a bull's eye

Excellent mountain cabaret art
of supremacy and declarations
of death and life like gummy bears
of rock walls without serrations or marks

I'm joking in my secret code
against the waves that groan
wishes, screeches, swipes
but remain unanswered

Ah I here, mother soul, stone
reassured by shady looks
with faithful cloud patches, red
like a toga on my soul

I look outside in vain
I suppose business, reason
come to conclusions, leave them
and lay me down in wrinkled sheets
The strong act as they may, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides
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Re: my poetry, translated

Postby Fixed Cross » Sat May 08, 2021 9:21 pm

1. The Youth

Wise man! The youth spoke in a plaintive voice urgently to the Prince, who was merciful to him. Keeper of Your People, protégé of Fate! If your heart is not made of stone, cold as the rocks of the North that endure much from the cruel sea, cooled by sharp winds and the hatred of the Sea Demons, answer me with your mighty voice, O men urging violent! For I ask you openly and naked, without hiding the stirrings of my heart from you: have you seen where my friend has gone, the godlike poet who terrified both the best soldiers of the bearded peoples of the East with his shattering fist. , as with his glorious songs enlightened the hearts of his friends while he was still with them? And the Prince who was merciful to him was torn asunder by the two wills that commanded him, that of the head and that of the heart. But in the end he chose to subdue the will of his head and spoke with his heart, and what he spoke was the truth: Dear boy who was chosen from a nation by the Sky Barster, I tell you honestly and from the bottom of my heart this truth: your friend has voluntarily joined the men who came from the North, and who utter dire war cries when they attack and break front lines. I tell you deeply grieving in my heart for your loss, that he has turned away from the horse-feeding plains on which he was raised, and set foot toward the storm-god-worshiping peoples who fear nothing, not even death and the dark death castle. And the boy was bewildered and he froze in his heart when he heard this and it turned black in his eyes and he wished that the rock-splitting destiny would take his life with a merciful thunderbolt. But then some God made a fire kindle in his diaphragm and gave wings to his words: But if this is true, King and keeper of the people you rightly worship for you are righteous and never just prefer one over the other but you always have a good reason for your judgment, that much is well known to me, and I have no doubt that what you say is the truth, even if it is cruel and it flows from your lips to the breath from your diaphragm as the man's doubting destiny ravages the ships of those who want to return home but are driven from their homes against their will, then I will muster my courage and gather my friends for a sacrificial meal to the immortal Gods who set strict rules and always pay close attention or the people do honor them correctly, and then I will burn the tenderest piece of meat of my best sheep and drink the sweet wine with my best friends to please the Gods for no mortal succeeds at his goal without the discretion of the Gods, and I will travel north! And deep in his heart the Prince, who was graciously disposed to the boy, was delighted with this purpose, for he suspected that the all-knowing Gods had foreseen all this and were already planning to make the boy's journey a success without preying on him. let him fall to the horribly howling wolves in the shady forests with the well-hidden roads, and would grant him a reunion with his friend. And they partook with great taste the meat that was presented to them on golden dishes by beautiful slaves with shining dark skins and they sacrificed carefully and then they drank the sweet wine and with each gulp their worries were lessened, for they drank the courage of the Gods in, who rule over everything and know no fear.
The strong act as they may, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides
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Re: my poetry, translated

Postby Fixed Cross » Sat May 08, 2021 9:22 pm

The Castle in the Air
It is now getting lighter outside
Lighter than ever
never ever again
so light on this hour
of the night

I don't want this screaming of molecules
this unruly awakening
creak, crunch, three times no!
the car is racing
he is ... unwelcome
a scooter -
all day is broken.
warm light inside
against that - textile
between me and the day that
here
is
now
and
I
wait for the signs of the Holy Elk with the Mysterious Antlers.

In April, the chickens lay the goldenest eggs
in the mortality denominator, the mate runs to deck
phrases around a golden section are not relevant
haven't lost that darn lightning yet.



The Earthshocker.

And as the ships departed from the salty coast, somewhere deep in the sea, the Blue-haired Earthshaker awoke from one of his nymph-inhabited dreams. He hurried from his green-black fortress deep beneath the smooth, windless mirror of darkness, and with the speed of a thousand dolphins made his way to where the keels of the ships cleaved through his waters. The Aardschokker soon realized that this was not about sacrilegers, but about shaky beings who wanted to anchor themselves more deeply in existence. And he allowed them to penetrate further into his domain, making arrangements with the swift speed that only an immortal God is capable of for their reception into his sanctuary. He set out to cause a shipwreck near the coast of a rocky, barren island where one must dig deep into one's own strength to make it right, and not fall into the arms of some dark death-lock prematurely and sadly . And the Earthshaker was pleased to be able to meddle in people's lives, for in spite of his contempt for their weakness and the vexing pity that the good among them sometimes wrought in him, in the best of them he loved and likened persistence. sometimes with the immovable tides of his own global empire. And night fell over the sea, and in the hollow black ships now the daring adventurers lit some torches, and from Mount Olympus the Lots-determiner watched in wonder at so much courage in such feeble creatures. And the adventurers opened two pitchers of pure wine - a drink of the gods - and made libations to the immortal Gods, and in particular to the Earthshaker, not knowing what it had in store for them ...

And a stiff wind rose when the morning dawned with a thousand pink fingers, and the men hastened to the ropes of the well-woven sails and pulled them taut, so that the graceful ships, which were crooked in front and behind, passed like spears moved the surface of the water, held back by no mortal force.
The strong act as they may, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides
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Re: my poetry, translated

Postby Fixed Cross » Sat May 08, 2021 9:29 pm

tent without groundsheet
The word is borderline
the speaker is a traveler
sometimes there is control
never a ticket

Climbing snail on wet asphalt
wet cracking wood in a shed
Flat lake, hot, mosquitoes and vapor
a toad spying on a butterfly

The closer along fences dikes
strokes their clean lines gently
suddenly he raises his gaze:
the breach is grinning at him.

eternal the wings die
to avert nothingness
the shy core unfolds
hidden within itself

Raised to the last degree breaks
the marshal with his cruel look
but fingers tender as dew light
this grain of sand in two

Antlers against wrathful red
Collect horns in black
Suddenly, like a lashing whiplash
marks the horizon




gray is the skin of light
Dusty capital
contains the ultimate
several times
beyond doubt

massive plain
of pure happening
an arrogant ray of light
combs the proud river

Carved out of time in light
mirrors hidden law
in innumerable sleeping eyes
until a watchful look screams







Black Cabbage
Impossibly high were the mountains, then the mountain, the mountain of ash and black coal, bigger than God, bigger than the plane that crashed in 9/11, bigger than the linguistic lag of an Donkey on a Moon Traveler, bigger than the overall BLA of the USA, bigger than the dollar, bigger than Africa, China, Elezier Achmed even thought his dick bigger than the desert. But he was wrong. The desert was bigger, and he knew it himself. The savage that ate everything - including his dick. Achmet was a bit angry, but he thought it was right again. Otherwise there could be no others. And he had to, otherwise he couldn't be there, So that was how everything was dissolved again, but the Desert was still big and Empty, and God had not yet separated the light from the dark, although this was soon to happen Elezier waited anxious, facing the moon that would illuminate him on his path through nowhere to a path out of nowhere, he hoped - bizarre times were coming for Elezier Achmed the Desert Wanderer.

Truly, nights of lilies and primordial fungi bringing visions to him, creaky beds in prisons and angry negroes, sharp teeth and claws of a female super being trying to knock him to the ground with her dreadful meow - the facial expressions of the moonless night. Achmed was not that innocent either, he had once stood on a boat after he had murdered. Out in a swamp, he had processed his past there. His past in that rotten village, where he was born a rotten apple, and therefore had to take control of his world. Evil must be retaliated by the bad self. He had learned that - and he had proved that what he had learned was the truth by becoming a successful businessman in Ethiopia and befriending the generals there. It had given him a palace full of servants and maids, and here he had tasted the life that made Guatama so overcrowded that he rolled down Zarathustra's mountain and came to a stop against a tree.

Elezier, however, had been somewhat ambiguous. Endless troubles in his infancy had convinced him that his adolescence should not have happened yet. Through this he projected before him a trajectory of ideals that would eventually bring him immortality in matter. He already knew he was immortal in the soul, he didn't have to do anything for that - so that's not interesting, Elezier thought. What is stranger, here at my feet, this strange-being - this all-representing, this totally unintellectual whole being of the wood, the stone and the animal kingdom, from which we are foamed over, beyond the edges of the being we are the destructive become ...

- this is what Ahmed said to himself as he climbed the mountain of ashes and resolved to spread this ashes over the desert, and to make it rain like the Gracious One Himself. We need to find ourselves a bigger head. And so Achmed Elezier went in search of a chalice, a carrier for the seas of happiness and disobedience.






This execution
the pillory, put back into use
because - we are back on track -
shame is life
because nature wants to hide itself.

The roads intersect and divide and wallow
in blind spirals around each other
lead to nothing but exhaustion
fall into the dust
strike the Earth.

This Earth then trembles
hears, yes
as Heaven remains silent
after rendering countless services to him
the ground groans with me

cracked base for my fort
the magma builds up
like violent vomit
from the stomach of the fire-eater
that knows no boundaries

You do, slender bird
you know limits, don't you?
Countless, they make you beauty
possibly, just like you
you know how to carry yourself.

A bird scratches my past
I don't heed it anymore
my Earth is loyal to me
who am i if not
the fickle sky?






-





Old man
Possessed old man
His orders blare silently
Through the halls of stone
Who call themselves my heart

There were once signs
On the walls, now knotty
And inhospitable

And once forty voices echoed
Mighty and rude, songs
the generous words of deed

Now it is teeming with snakes
On the dusty feet, frozen
Because of the cold that speaks from thoughts
In the dark-chewing head






Holy shrapnel
the guardians of entropy

the nihilistic herd

break their morality
in a billion holy pieces!






In The Dingy Pub
The cart drives along the meadow on the forest path, on the edge of the field of one of the Lords of the Lake District. Plotinus doesn't know why he was exiled, he doesn't want to know, he doesn't care, he's been glad he's gone for a long time. Anyway, the road is still long and food is needed. There are only garlic-smelling leaves, there is no question of game let alone catching anything, he has no rope or knife. And fishing with a spear should work but make fire, well, then try with that piece of wood. He wonders if he is going to make it, and takes the step, with the intention of heading into the forest at the appropriate time. Moreover, he has to spend the night somewhere, which has to be done regularly before nightfall.
Survival is a day's job, Plotinus realizes, and for the time being is not getting around to giving his ideals a bare bones.
He should just summarize them, so that he does not forget them, Then just like this: raving against a tree:

"Everything that is, is because it doesn't just exist, but wants to be itself, values ​​itself. Active is itself. Attracted to itself. Rooted in self-recognition. This is form from which we contemplate the void.

Hence, art always goes beyond and limits.
Hence we know without thinking
hence everything turns out unexpectedly useful
hence one should never turn away from the unexpected
hence courage is useful
and not stupid, and intelligence requires prowess.






that this exists
A friend's poem, a word that indicates so
musing, I looked out the window in my memory
the rain I felt in the house now too
my blood murmurs softly

i think i think and i know i dream
sometimes I know how to think
then I don't really think anything -
I think - I put what apparently was in the light
and see the world without rules,
exist alone,

only this, which exists
because it is this

it exists.

The cock crows
it is late
night falls
about the region
from Groningen
where an old friend is buried.



___
Whenever I was willing
came the hard animal
I drove with it together
over the swell

Whenever I bite
the world creaked
and came to a stop

____
Ohoeboeroe, Langhors and Ardanwen hijack the coast for city again and again
the lightning lights and German UFOs and purple ferris wheels and yellow lit croquettes

And de Peere said to the cookie:
Jo, but do you still have uh, you know?

That cookie said: NO!
but so it is.

"Das Universum - ein Maschine, which is aus Atomen und einer Art von Medium zwischen ihnenzusammengesetzt; die Gesetze der Energie sind die Gesetze, welche die Wirkung dieser Maschine berherrschen."




9: 1
Hastily arriving at the lake I saw the swell disappear before it was still, as Moose had intended.

The Moose spoke to me, boy, don't hurry! Then things all seem more complicated than they already are.
You have to understand, not learn.

And then the Elk was silent in all languages.


8: 6
And the Lord said to me, let the storms blow and the trees fall, and rejoice in the crackling and roaring, and rise in the wind and welcome the lightning and dance to the boom, and bathe in the raging stream of life . And he closed the door of his room, and I was back in life, in this world, where God does not usually be present except in the very nature of things. And I turned to the world and saw the things that I had done and lived in, and I turned back to God again, but the door was closed to him. And I made ready to knock, but then felt a thunderstorm go down in my heart, and I departed from the door of the Lord and descended into my deeds, my ways, and my fields, and entered the house of my life that was on fire , and saved from that what could be saved, and that was all that was of value to me, and nothing that I had saved because it might one day be of value to someone else.

Now the world was full of wind and storm and rain and lightning, and I fearlessly marched therein to new ends and great rivers to cross, and I saw castles against the gruff sky and began to imagine the world that is had not happened to me before. An image of heroic dragon tamers and beautiful miracle makers, brave people who believe in the good and brave people who create the good. And I did not think about the wicked and poor people in the deserts and tundras, for I was in earthly riches, where life is generous and there is no need to constantly knock on God's door for justification. I realized that the world was much stranger than I imagined, and that I was more in my place than anyone else.
The strong act as they may, the weak accept what they must.
- Thucydides
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Nietzsche's Heritage; The Philosophy of the Future - Some Music - The Magical Tree of Life
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