Random rant

I remember school days were lasting

I remember cocaine having me in a murk

I remember felling like plastic

And being misunderstood for my quirks

I remember seeing gold rings

The night of my second wedding

I remember you standing next

to my deathbed as you whispered

to my ear of your remembrances

And how they were all strangely

related to me

A tailor-made coffin

Your eyes begin to tire.

Your head sits on this greasy pillow

[Your hair is weeping, little]

Should I have fought?

Room service knocks

[interrupts the tacit thoughts]

There was so much happiness

Behind the doors of that mini-bar

How do things get this far

To a point where to sleep is to lie

And to lay is to die.

Only years will mar

Your weeping hair

And your complexion

[apart from the fact that you're dead]

Never that fair

Mike Mills [fireworks]

when i'm done

i'll cock my gun

and blood will run

like ribbons on my hair...

Oh, if Brecht was Italian...

Estes cortes cegos e outros afiados

Meine herren, mit siebzehn jahren

Kam ich auf den liebesmarkt

Und ich habe viel erfahren

Böses gab es viel

Doch das war das spiel

Aber manches hab ich doch verargt

[Schlieblich bin ich ja auch ein mensch]

Freilich geht man mit den jahren

Leichter auf den liebesmarkt

Und umarmt sie dort in scharen

Aber das gefühl

Wird erstaunlich kühl

Wenn man damit allzuwenig kargt

[Schlieblich geht ja jeder vorrat zu ende]

Und auch wenn man gut das handeln

Lernte auf des liebermess

Lust ein kleingeld zu verwandeln

Ist doch niemals leicht

Nun es wird erreicht

Doch man wird auch älter unterdes

[Schlieblich bleibt man ja nicht immer siebzehn]

Gott sei dank geht alles schnell vorüber

Auch die liebe und der kummer sogar

Wo sind die tränen von gestern abend?

Wo ist der schnee vom vergangenen jahr?

*

Caros, eu tinha dezessete

quando entrei no mercado do amor

Passei por muitas coisas

Muitas delas bem escrotas

Era tudo parte do jogo

Ainda que essas coisas possam depor contra mim

[Afinal eu também sou humano]

Claro que com o passar dos anos

É mais fácil estar no mercado do amor

E recebê-los em rebanhos

Mas seus sentimentos

Esfriam de modo estranho

Quando não são racionados

[Afinal, qualquer reserva acaba, eventualmente]

Mesmo quando se aprende bem o ofício

Na feira do amor

Não é fácil fazer troco do prazer

Bem, o sucesso é possível

No entanto você envelhece

[Afinal, não se tem dezessete pra sempre]

Graças a Deus tudo acaba rápido

Tanto o amor quanto o sofrimento

Aonde estão as lágrimas de ontem?

E a neve do ano passado?

[B. Brecht - e Weill transformou em canção para Lenya no natal de 39, em Nova Iorque.]

The lopsided truth of observations

In an argument being moderated

By David and Goliath

The audience was mainly made of Cyclops

While the panel of judges was stuck in a rut.

Were they rutting stags?

I was not sure.

Neither was I.

Wie Odysseus auf den mast des schiffes [ein wintermärchen]

The ocean presented itself

as a great black distance

separating me from

where I am.

Auf jener meer - or so I thought

I find myself not knowing

the silky way back home

and came to realize

how many porn I needed

to behave as the blade

right past the tip of your tongue.

How Jonah of me...

to live under your palate

and to think that safe i'd be...

And in my russian way

empty, shipped away

my cold corpse committed

to this frozen, glassy lake

Em. D.

Of Glory not a beam is left

But her Eternal House -

The Asterisk is for the Dead,

The Living, for the Stars -

*

God is indeed a jealous God - 

He cannot bear to see

That we had rather not with Him

But with each other play

*

The words the happy say

Are paltry melody

But those the silent feel

Are beautiful -