Poem
Claudiu Komartin
Emily’s eyes over Amherst
This night does not know the words of introductionThis night with little robots and lasers, with Scalextric toy cars
This night dirtied by grease
This night that throws everything in your face
This night that is kidnapping hitchhikers and shutting them away
in an attic filled with toy animals and clowns
This night that is secretly looking at the papers of a poet who
no longer believes
This long night of allegory
This night the old differences are coming to a head, shades pulled
down, the shop shut up
This night anxiously anticipating from the crowd
the announcement of a new pope
This night when white tigers are dreaming of the wind-up bird
This night with neither tongue nor eyes, a scalp from which
something is slowly leaking
This night with its cleansing milks, its goddamned braces
This night that’s rocking you, this silky purring beside you, that
leans deep inside
This night, it plays nicely with you & leaves you bloodied
This night that’s smoking despite the ban on burning
This night throttled by the trepidation of a first entry
This night that unplugs souls
This night that exits the gates of the Machine ready to sacrifice itself
for a noble cause
This night of Lace and Extermination
This night carved out of wood
This night, room and distance, with bodies of silence surrounding
This night smelling of dough and fresh paint
This night when bread and flesh are black as in a poem
by Antonio Gamoneda
This night does not play the fool when it comes to love
This night is a revolutionary with fierce breasts and unattainable ideals
This night disarming nuclear warheads
This night overturning drilling platforms and plunging them to great depths
This night filling with horror those who thought that imagination
could not
This night with great and dimmed stars like the eyes of Emily
over Amherst
Ochii lui Emily peste Amherst
Ochii lui Emily peste Amherst
Noaptea asta nu știe cuvintele de introducereNoaptea asta cu roboței și lasere, cu mașinuțe teleghidate
Noaptea asta murdară de leșie pe mâini
Noaptea asta care-ți aruncă totul în față
Noaptea asta răpește autostopiști și îi închide într-o mansardă cu animăluțe de pluș și clovni
Noaptea asta trage cu ochiul în hârtiile unui poet care nu mai crede
Noaptea asta ca o lungă alegorie
Noaptea asta se tranșează vechile diferende, se trag storurile, se închide casa
Noaptea asta privește emoționată din mulțime alegerea unui nou papă
Noaptea asta în care tigrii albi visează pasărea-arc
Noaptea asta fără limbă și fără ochi o căpățână din care se scurge ceva
Noaptea asta cu laptele ei demachiant, cu blestematele de bretele
Noaptea asta te leagănă, toarce mieros lângă tine, ți se bagă în suflet
Noaptea asta se joacă cu tine frumos și te lasă într-o baltă de sânge
Noaptea asta fumează în ciuda avertismentului de incendiu
Noaptea asta gâtuită de emoție ca o debutantă
Noaptea asta va scoate din priză câteva suflete
Noaptea asta ieșită de pe porțile Utilajului, gata să se sacrifice pentru o cauză nobilă
Noaptea asta Dantelă și Exterminare
Noaptea asta sculptată-ntr-un lemn
Noaptea asta, camera și distanța, corpurile de tăcere din jur
Noaptea asta mirosind a aluat și a vopsea proaspătă
Noaptea asta, pâinea și carnea sunt negre ca într-un poem de Antonio Gamoneda
Noaptea asta nu știe de glumă când vine vorba de dragoste
Noaptea asta e o comunistă cu sâni puternici și cu idealuri de neatins
Noaptea asta dezarmează focoasele nucleare
Noaptea asta răstoarnă stațiile de forare și le îngroapă la mari adâncimi
Noaptea asta le bagă spaima în sân celor care au crezut că imaginația nu
Noaptea asta cu stele mari și stinse ca ochii lui Emily peste Amherst
From: Cobalt
Publisher: Casa de editură Max Blecher, Bistrița
Publisher: Casa de editură Max Blecher, Bistrița
Poems
Poems of Claudiu Komartin
Close
Emily’s eyes over Amherst
This night does not know the words of introductionThis night with little robots and lasers, with Scalextric toy cars
This night dirtied by grease
This night that throws everything in your face
This night that is kidnapping hitchhikers and shutting them away
in an attic filled with toy animals and clowns
This night that is secretly looking at the papers of a poet who
no longer believes
This long night of allegory
This night the old differences are coming to a head, shades pulled
down, the shop shut up
This night anxiously anticipating from the crowd
the announcement of a new pope
This night when white tigers are dreaming of the wind-up bird
This night with neither tongue nor eyes, a scalp from which
something is slowly leaking
This night with its cleansing milks, its goddamned braces
This night that’s rocking you, this silky purring beside you, that
leans deep inside
This night, it plays nicely with you & leaves you bloodied
This night that’s smoking despite the ban on burning
This night throttled by the trepidation of a first entry
This night that unplugs souls
This night that exits the gates of the Machine ready to sacrifice itself
for a noble cause
This night of Lace and Extermination
This night carved out of wood
This night, room and distance, with bodies of silence surrounding
This night smelling of dough and fresh paint
This night when bread and flesh are black as in a poem
by Antonio Gamoneda
This night does not play the fool when it comes to love
This night is a revolutionary with fierce breasts and unattainable ideals
This night disarming nuclear warheads
This night overturning drilling platforms and plunging them to great depths
This night filling with horror those who thought that imagination
could not
This night with great and dimmed stars like the eyes of Emily
over Amherst
From: Cobalt
Emily’s eyes over Amherst
This night does not know the words of introductionThis night with little robots and lasers, with Scalextric toy cars
This night dirtied by grease
This night that throws everything in your face
This night that is kidnapping hitchhikers and shutting them away
in an attic filled with toy animals and clowns
This night that is secretly looking at the papers of a poet who
no longer believes
This long night of allegory
This night the old differences are coming to a head, shades pulled
down, the shop shut up
This night anxiously anticipating from the crowd
the announcement of a new pope
This night when white tigers are dreaming of the wind-up bird
This night with neither tongue nor eyes, a scalp from which
something is slowly leaking
This night with its cleansing milks, its goddamned braces
This night that’s rocking you, this silky purring beside you, that
leans deep inside
This night, it plays nicely with you & leaves you bloodied
This night that’s smoking despite the ban on burning
This night throttled by the trepidation of a first entry
This night that unplugs souls
This night that exits the gates of the Machine ready to sacrifice itself
for a noble cause
This night of Lace and Extermination
This night carved out of wood
This night, room and distance, with bodies of silence surrounding
This night smelling of dough and fresh paint
This night when bread and flesh are black as in a poem
by Antonio Gamoneda
This night does not play the fool when it comes to love
This night is a revolutionary with fierce breasts and unattainable ideals
This night disarming nuclear warheads
This night overturning drilling platforms and plunging them to great depths
This night filling with horror those who thought that imagination
could not
This night with great and dimmed stars like the eyes of Emily
over Amherst
Sponsors
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère