Poem
Linda Maria Baros
IN THE SNARE OF THE NOSTRILS
Dawn is a womanwho breaks your windows with her breasts
– reddened are the nipples
suckled on by tramps . . .
And there goes the tocsin for the hunt . . .
(Damned be Vlachka and her Teleorman!)
Prepare the drop, the raid!
The oubliette for the guests!
Set your snares!
Spatter your face with blood,
as if African masks from the sleepless nights
were flowing from your arteries!
Trap the red foxes in the snare of your nostrils!
But above all
prepare the drop, the raid.
Even if nobody comes.
Dawn – when solitude
seems to you like a brain curdled on the walls.
© Translation: 2008, Stephen Romer
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2008
Publisher: First published on PIW, , 2008
IN DE VAL VAN DE NEUSVLEUGELS
De dageraad is een vrouwdie je ramen breekt met haar borsten
– roodgekleurd zijn de tepels
waar de clochards aan lurken…
Ach, daar luidt het uur van de jacht…
(Vervloekt zijn Vlasjka en haar Teleorman!)
Bereid de inval voor, de raid!
De valdeur voor de gasten!
Zet de strikken!
Besmeur je gezicht met bloed
alsof uit je aderen de Afrikaanse maskers
van slapeloze nachten vloeiden!
Vang zijn rode vossen in de val van je neusvleugels!
En vóór alles,
bereid de inval voor, de raid.
Ook wanneer niemand komt.
De dageraad – wanneer de eenzaamheid
je toeschijnt als gestremde hersens op de muren.
© Vertaling: 2008, Micha J. Knijn
DANS LE PIÈGE DES NARINES
L’aube est une femmequi brise tes fenêtres avec ses seins
– rougis sont leurs mamelons
que tètent les clochards…
Ah, on entend sonner l’heure de la chasse…
(Maudits soient Vlachka et son Teleorman!)
Prépare la descente, le raid!
La trappe pour les invités!
Tends les lacets!
Éclabousse ton visage de sang,
comme si de tes artères coulaient
les masques africains des nuits sans sommeil!
Attrape ses renards roux dans le piège des narines!
Et, avant tout,
prépare la descente, le raid.
Même si personne n’y vient.
L’aube – quand la solitude
te semble être une cervelle caillée sur les murs.
© 2006, Linda Maria Baros
From: La Maison en lames de rasoir
Publisher: Cheyne éditeur, France
From: La Maison en lames de rasoir
Publisher: Cheyne éditeur, France
Poems
Poems of Linda Maria Baros
Close
IN THE SNARE OF THE NOSTRILS
Dawn is a womanwho breaks your windows with her breasts
– reddened are the nipples
suckled on by tramps . . .
And there goes the tocsin for the hunt . . .
(Damned be Vlachka and her Teleorman!)
Prepare the drop, the raid!
The oubliette for the guests!
Set your snares!
Spatter your face with blood,
as if African masks from the sleepless nights
were flowing from your arteries!
Trap the red foxes in the snare of your nostrils!
But above all
prepare the drop, the raid.
Even if nobody comes.
Dawn – when solitude
seems to you like a brain curdled on the walls.
© 2008, Stephen Romer
From: La Maison en lames de rasoir
Publisher: 2008, First published on PIW, France
From: La Maison en lames de rasoir
Publisher: 2008, First published on PIW, France
IN THE SNARE OF THE NOSTRILS
Dawn is a womanwho breaks your windows with her breasts
– reddened are the nipples
suckled on by tramps . . .
And there goes the tocsin for the hunt . . .
(Damned be Vlachka and her Teleorman!)
Prepare the drop, the raid!
The oubliette for the guests!
Set your snares!
Spatter your face with blood,
as if African masks from the sleepless nights
were flowing from your arteries!
Trap the red foxes in the snare of your nostrils!
But above all
prepare the drop, the raid.
Even if nobody comes.
Dawn – when solitude
seems to you like a brain curdled on the walls.
© 2008, Stephen Romer
Publisher: 2008, First published on PIW,
Publisher: 2008, First published on PIW,
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