Poem
Milko Valent
3. The Voice Of Demigods
music is the voice of the demigods.every night they each drink a fresh egg
through the narrow trumpet.
yolks drip through madness
in the corner of some club without a doorman.
during that time the gods are silent.
they are private virtues,
intimate underwear for two.
the gods are silent and dream loud
bar dawns as the hell of the holy trinity:
heaven, purgatory and debauched holiness.
and I love music, the naked lacework of flesh and jazz,
the lace that the heart didn’t forget to weave.
© Translation: 2004, Miloš Đurđević
3. Glas polubogova
3. Glas polubogova
glazba je glas polubogova.svaku večer ispiju po svježe jaje
kroz usku trubu.
žumanjci se cijede niz ludilo
u kutu nekog kluba bez portira.
za to vrijeme bogovi šute.
oni su privatne vrline,
intimno donje rublje za dvoje.
bogovi šute i sanjaju glasne
barske zore kao pakao svetog trojstva:
raja, čistilišta i razbludne svetosti.
a ja volim glazbu, golu čipku mesa i jazza,
čipku koju srce nije zaboravilo tkati.
© 2001, Milko Valent
From: Jazz: afrička vuna
Publisher: Naklada MD, Zagreb
From: Jazz: afrička vuna
Publisher: Naklada MD, Zagreb
Poems
Poems of Milko Valent
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3. The Voice Of Demigods
music is the voice of the demigods.every night they each drink a fresh egg
through the narrow trumpet.
yolks drip through madness
in the corner of some club without a doorman.
during that time the gods are silent.
they are private virtues,
intimate underwear for two.
the gods are silent and dream loud
bar dawns as the hell of the holy trinity:
heaven, purgatory and debauched holiness.
and I love music, the naked lacework of flesh and jazz,
the lace that the heart didn’t forget to weave.
© 2004, Miloš Đurđević
From: Jazz: afrička vuna
From: Jazz: afrička vuna
3. The Voice Of Demigods
music is the voice of the demigods.every night they each drink a fresh egg
through the narrow trumpet.
yolks drip through madness
in the corner of some club without a doorman.
during that time the gods are silent.
they are private virtues,
intimate underwear for two.
the gods are silent and dream loud
bar dawns as the hell of the holy trinity:
heaven, purgatory and debauched holiness.
and I love music, the naked lacework of flesh and jazz,
the lace that the heart didn’t forget to weave.
© 2004, Miloš Đurđević
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