Poem
Eugenijus Ališanka
THE AUTUMN OF EPICURUS
I shouldn’t complain, there was no lack of pleasures, maybe fewer women, more philosophy, but today I shouldn’t regret this, with philosophy I sired more children, they’re recognizable to the naked eye, though we seldom meet, but in the natural world it’s like that, now I’m mostly alone, not much of the body left, during the day I puff on a few cigs or sip some hooch, otherwise just books, always more and more alike, especially those bound in vellum, like women, I remember when I was young every book was the only one, I used to read them until the stitching frayed and fell apart, now they’re all like those nymphets in the olympic stadium, sheer slabs, content without form, not covered with anything, pure physiques, an aristotelian odor, no pleasure, once upon a time I used to write in a diary after the day’s adventures, now I just jot down memories, well, it’s a pleasure as well, to tell stories, especially cock-and-bull tales, all my life I lied to myself, now I can lie to others as well, it’s the only pleasure left.
© Translation: 2010, Kerry Shawn Keys
Publisher: Poetry International, , 2010
Publisher: Poetry International, , 2010
DE HERFST VAN EPICUROS
ik mag niet klagen, het ontbrak me niet aan plezier, misschien wat te weinig vrouwen, wat te veel filosofie, maar betreuren mag ik dat niet, met de filosofie heb ik meer kinderen gehad, ik herken ze zo, al zie ik ze zelden, maar zo is de natuur, nu ben ik meestal alleen, vraag me niet wat er nog van mijn lijf overblijft, hoeveel per dag ik rook of wat voor straf spul ik achteroversla, verder nog steeds boeken, steeds monotoner, bij voorkeur met lederen omslagen, net als de vrouwen, ik herinner mij toen ik nog jong was hoe elk van hen de enige was in mijn leven en ik ze helemaal verslond, nu zijn ze allemaal zoals die herderinnetjes in het olympisch stadion, graatmager, inhoud zonder vorm, niets om het lijf, zuivere fysica, de scherpe geur van de aristoteliaanse school, geen plezier, ooit hield ik een dagboek bij van mijn dagelijkse avonturen, nu slechts herinneringen, ach, dat is ook fijn, verhalen vertellen, vooral verzonnen, heel mijn leven heb ik tegen mijzelf gelogen, nu ik alleen ben mag ik ook tegen de anderen liegen
© Vertaling: 2010, Jo Govaerts
THE AUTUMN OF EPICURUS
neturėčiau skųstis, malonumų netrūko, gal mažiau moterų, daugiau filosofijos, bet šiandie neturėčiau gailėtis, su filosofija susilaukiau daugiau vaikų, plika akim atpažįstu, tegu retai matausi, bet šitaip ir gamtoj surėdyta, dabar dažniausiai vienas, kūno ne kaži kiek likę, kokį dūmą per dieną sutraukiu ar taurę stipresnio išlaižau, šiaip vis knygos, vis vienodesnės, ypač odiniais viršeliais, kaip ir moterys, pamenu, jaunystėj kiekviena buvo vienintelė gyvenime, skaitydavau, kol siūlių nebelikdavo, dabar visos kaip tos piemenės olimpo stadione, perkarusios, turinys be formos, niekuo neprisidengusios, gryna fizika, ryškus aristotelio mokyklos kvapelis, jokio malonumo, kadaise rašiau dienoraštį po dienos nuotykių, dabar tik atsiminimus, ką gi, irgi malonumas, pasakoti istorijas, ypač nebūtas, visą gyvenimą melavau sau, dabar galiu ir kitiems, vienintelis belikęs
© 2006, Eugenijus Ališanka
From: Exemplum
Publisher: Vaga, Vilnius
From: Exemplum
Publisher: Vaga, Vilnius
Poems
Poems of Eugenijus Ališanka
Close
THE AUTUMN OF EPICURUS
I shouldn’t complain, there was no lack of pleasures, maybe fewer women, more philosophy, but today I shouldn’t regret this, with philosophy I sired more children, they’re recognizable to the naked eye, though we seldom meet, but in the natural world it’s like that, now I’m mostly alone, not much of the body left, during the day I puff on a few cigs or sip some hooch, otherwise just books, always more and more alike, especially those bound in vellum, like women, I remember when I was young every book was the only one, I used to read them until the stitching frayed and fell apart, now they’re all like those nymphets in the olympic stadium, sheer slabs, content without form, not covered with anything, pure physiques, an aristotelian odor, no pleasure, once upon a time I used to write in a diary after the day’s adventures, now I just jot down memories, well, it’s a pleasure as well, to tell stories, especially cock-and-bull tales, all my life I lied to myself, now I can lie to others as well, it’s the only pleasure left.
© 2010, Kerry Shawn Keys
From: Exemplum
Publisher: 2010, Poetry International, Vilnius
From: Exemplum
Publisher: 2010, Poetry International, Vilnius
THE AUTUMN OF EPICURUS
I shouldn’t complain, there was no lack of pleasures, maybe fewer women, more philosophy, but today I shouldn’t regret this, with philosophy I sired more children, they’re recognizable to the naked eye, though we seldom meet, but in the natural world it’s like that, now I’m mostly alone, not much of the body left, during the day I puff on a few cigs or sip some hooch, otherwise just books, always more and more alike, especially those bound in vellum, like women, I remember when I was young every book was the only one, I used to read them until the stitching frayed and fell apart, now they’re all like those nymphets in the olympic stadium, sheer slabs, content without form, not covered with anything, pure physiques, an aristotelian odor, no pleasure, once upon a time I used to write in a diary after the day’s adventures, now I just jot down memories, well, it’s a pleasure as well, to tell stories, especially cock-and-bull tales, all my life I lied to myself, now I can lie to others as well, it’s the only pleasure left.
© 2010, Kerry Shawn Keys
Publisher: 2010, Poetry International,
Publisher: 2010, Poetry International,
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère