"Devant la Glace"
Mirror-mirror why
had I to be born
on the banks of Seine?
Born I - to be bored,
born - to go insane?
Mirror-mirror why?
With the look like mine
as gitanas tribe
I could rashly dance
to guitarras, tryin'
on uncommon sense
with the look like mine.
Weave the flowers in the tresses,
lay with deities of the night,
just because the happiness is
is to love and to be loved
Mirror-mirror why
had I to be born
the female? Quiet
as a female, worn
as a female quite,
mirror-mirror why?
With the wit like mine
and with my own worth,
being a male, with ease
I could tear the earth
off its axis... With,
with the wit like mine.
Put on suit, and crop the tresses,
introduce yourself a George,
just because it all: appearance -
courage - speech belong to men.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
weave the flowers in the tresses,
lay with deities of the night,
just because the happiness is
c'est d'aimer et d'etre aim'e
"Lady Godiva vs Peeping Tom"
Have you ever tasted the pain,
when there any eye is to tear your flesh?
Have you ever tasted the pain,
when the sight from under the eyelash stings like a lash?
Don't look!
I cannot stand this torture any more,
It feels just like a hunted animal!
It hurts...
Though the louvers are closed reliably
I'm still catching these brazen eyes on me,
the walls around blush and lively
redden I, goes aflame horizon .
Seems like through each and every crevice,
even silent the town as Kingdom Come,
keeps spying on me the grievous,
lewd and lecherous tailor. Peeping Tom
Lady Godiva
Peeping Tom
Could you ever tell from the pain
to the pleasure when every glance caressed?
Was there pleasure no one could feign?
Touch without a touch, itch without an itch and the rest…
Behold,
J cannot stand this neverending lust,
Imbue me with desire for I'm lost,
I fall in lust with…
Though the louvers are closed reliably
I'm still catching these brazen eyes on me,
the walls around blush and lively
redden I, goes aflame horizon .
Seems like through each and every crevice,
even silent the town as Kingdom Come,
keeps spying on me the grievous,
lewd and lecherous tailor. Peeping Tom
Lady Godiva
Peeping Tom...
"Penelope's Spindle"
Could it be a happiness but it was not,
Roll the spindle, to the thread retrieve the knot you,
turn aback.
Needlework return to tow and with the dark return the thaw
to the heart your sail, prevailing storm and rack.
I was burning high, my heart emitted fume,
Wasn't there a happiness I could assume,
my spindle roll!
Spin my rock, my distaff wind until the night can run behind,
spin until my back is not against a wall.
Wines return to vinegar, they were before,
Gold and silver – to the ore and ore – to pore,
And among the horde of malty friends, come in -
Come along there Odysseus the cunning.
Passed I anything and anything did pass,
but a happiness. The spindle whirls alas
not really quick,
shroud becomes the yarn anew and till I'm waiting here for you,
hope my finger isn't waiting for a prick…
"Self Portrait"
Sly is the town. The plazas hide ancient mysteries,
Vltava the river carefully its enigmas guards.
Watch it: the mud, you puddle with high and heavy heels,
Whilom alive was, aforetime serving me a face.
Neither the word nor other lips those lips didn't taste,
Neither the kiss, in other words, nor the talk, as well.
So they were petrified as though they were whispering
"Thank you", as though was whom to thank, what to thank him for.
Sculptured I was in image and likeness of my man,
therefore my silhouette was too humpy. But the eyes:
whether a lot they've seen in their short life, whether a
lot they could ever tell about, being trampled down.
So many tears they shed that their color grown dim
so much they mirrored grief and pain, miseries and woes,
so many deaths they witnessed, that felt like being ashamed
they to be so alive once upon a dead of time.
Laurel was never tried on by forehead, thorns' not too,
Did I knot forehead ever? Did I wipe a cold cold sweat?
Maybe just once, when one, that I loved more than myself,
wiped out of my forehead letter Aleph, slaying me.