Chained

“The Dolls’, the film by Takeshi Kitano, perhaps is my favourite Japanese film. Red and White Seasons of rope, of love - which is either beautiful, or cruel. Or both.

I sought for the way out of this mirror realm,
touching things, later their shadows
and saying farewell to the north and the south.

My peace is yours, oh Lord.
Though I have no peace.

Yo Sakura

The more I trust to God, the more I am surprised…. There’s a deep mystery teeming in all around us indeed… Just a few precious books of Chinese and Japanese poetry on the shelves. I love Wang Wei, Basho, Issa, Li Bai, Du Fu, Kanze Motokiyo, Buson - they all have been for a long time as a rainbow apple of my eye. Though my yo zakura… mostly sinks in endurance, there’s a shimmering light within wet branches…

And Wang Wei, playing musical instruments before moon!

"Sitting alone, in the hush of the bamboo;
I thrum my zither, and whistle lingering notes.
In the secrecy of the wood, no one can hear;
Only the clear moon, comes to shine on me."

Genesis

In the course of your life the sighing butterfly leads you to the
Garden, where children are playing. Are they God's? I believe they are.

At the moment of death you do not remember Aphrodite,
We remember the letters of G and O.
The distance from one god to another one is
Mere One Living One.

Does He bring the silver plate with grapes and apples on it
To your bed balancing accounts?
The dearest gifts from the sea-goddess?

With bated breath we lie in wait for but
Who will come? Clinging for images – one, another -
One hope - HE is not an image and He is coming like a Person.

Blood and bread. Your breath that will be caught in the transmission,
Will speak for all your myths – spiritual and physics - just
Don’t look into the eyes of Death with long-long hair of the curling promises.

Hold carefully your ancient vase of life, and keep it lovingly for
Its yours forever.

Unless, of course, you do prefer the images.
In ancient times the images were reigning in a ball,
The God came here to be born, to save all living fairytale nature.

To Life through Life. Genesis

In water on that day He saw all fairy tales mournings,
And their howl to be revealed, to be fulfilled with Him -
He was the only hope of all myths.

And Fairy became the Truth. Do you believe? I do.

Avenue of limes

I think now this poem is wet by never-ending influence of Ivan Bunin’s lyrics in my life: this sensation of gentle breathing and avenues of limes...

***

I am walking along the garden with sails
Embedded in sky so blue – they thought it was the sea.

The Church of St Mary Magdalena – lime alley under the sun clock,
Leaves are chirring under the feet like dry souls of five o’clock teacups.

Dancing small ones are trying to hold heaven on their palms,
Leaves incurved are kept the prints of sight -
Those dwelling in a shell later unfold in bosom at night…

None is in the room but no limits for ‘might’,
Lady, transformed into waltz, now herself transforms hooks
Into breathing-outs – so silently apples are falling.

And smell of new silk velvet in angel’s grand opera theatre
Reminds me days in May when we were happy – transparent and exceeding.

This Church of May, its subtle columns like notes
For the orchestra, playing its Sunday sacred hymns in the park
With statures of Aphrodite and Dionysus.




René Magritte World

Funny translation to seven languages