Poem
Sigitas Parulskis
Squirrels
Your breasts, as you leave the bath-room – if I was a real poet I’d say,
emerge from the lilac glen – your breasts are like
two squirrels perched on a branch,
small brown snouts just barely turned to the side
they survey from above what new things this world has to offer
if I was a poet I would say that a deluge of desire
flows into the valley of my pelvis when I see
those squirrels looking
at me as though at a god, or at fauna
no, at the very least at an old and
lame satyr
potent streams of desire flow down
from the clouds of my brain through the foliage of lungs
over kidney stones, murmur in the liver’s shoals
and then, thriving in the deepest cave in the valley
a firm rooted trunk
comes into leaf, sceptre of life, axis mundi
that’s what I would say, if I were a poet
instead I simply stretch my hands towards you and the tame
little animals eat calmly from my
palms
and I stiffen just a little
© Translation: 2009, Medeinė Tribinevičius
VOVERAITĖS
VOVERAITĖS
Tavo krūtys, kai išeini iš vonioskambario – jeigu būčiau tikras poetas, sakyčiau –
iš alyvų giraitės – tavo krūtys panašios
į dvi voveraites, tupinčias ant šakos
rudi maži snukučiai vos pakreipti į šalis
jos žvalgosi iš aukštai, baugščios ir smalsios
jeigu būčiau poetas, sakyčiau, jog aistros liūtys
plūsteli į mano dubens slėnį, kai matau
voveraites, žvelgiančias
į mane kaip į viešpatį, bent jau kaip į fauną
na, mažų mažiausiai, kaip į seną ir
raišą satyrą
galingi geismo srautai teka žemyn,
iš smegenų debesų, per plaučių lapiją
per inkstų akmenis, šniokšdami kepenų rėvose
ir tuomet ten, giliausioje
slėnio oloje suveši, sulapoja
tvirtas kamienas, gyvybės skeptras, axis mundi
sakyčiau, jeigu būčiau poetas
dabar paprasčiausiai tiesiu rankas tavęs link, ir jaukūs
žvėreliai valgo ramiai iš mano
delnų
ir man sustangrėja, tik tiek
Poems
Poems of Sigitas Parulskis
Close
Squirrels
Your breasts, as you leave the bath-room – if I was a real poet I’d say,
emerge from the lilac glen – your breasts are like
two squirrels perched on a branch,
small brown snouts just barely turned to the side
they survey from above what new things this world has to offer
if I was a poet I would say that a deluge of desire
flows into the valley of my pelvis when I see
those squirrels looking
at me as though at a god, or at fauna
no, at the very least at an old and
lame satyr
potent streams of desire flow down
from the clouds of my brain through the foliage of lungs
over kidney stones, murmur in the liver’s shoals
and then, thriving in the deepest cave in the valley
a firm rooted trunk
comes into leaf, sceptre of life, axis mundi
that’s what I would say, if I were a poet
instead I simply stretch my hands towards you and the tame
little animals eat calmly from my
palms
and I stiffen just a little
© 2009, Medeinė Tribinevičius
Squirrels
Your breasts, as you leave the bath-room – if I was a real poet I’d say,
emerge from the lilac glen – your breasts are like
two squirrels perched on a branch,
small brown snouts just barely turned to the side
they survey from above what new things this world has to offer
if I was a poet I would say that a deluge of desire
flows into the valley of my pelvis when I see
those squirrels looking
at me as though at a god, or at fauna
no, at the very least at an old and
lame satyr
potent streams of desire flow down
from the clouds of my brain through the foliage of lungs
over kidney stones, murmur in the liver’s shoals
and then, thriving in the deepest cave in the valley
a firm rooted trunk
comes into leaf, sceptre of life, axis mundi
that’s what I would say, if I were a poet
instead I simply stretch my hands towards you and the tame
little animals eat calmly from my
palms
and I stiffen just a little
© 2009, Medeinė Tribinevičius
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