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 ?nihihu?
 
Je Kelko Nohow
Dźěło tłči
sydom barbow
mdre a čerwjene do běhaweho
čłowječa bjezknčna sćerpnosć
čłowječa bjezknčna, ćopła
do bjezbarbneho
tłći dźěło

Je sěsć bohow
Je pjeć rukow
Je pjeć nohow
w tyrjoch pusćinach

Je třoch palcow na wuměńku
do dźěrkow twaroka sej zalězu
jedźomne, wobjezdźomne
mały kusk do kołmasa
z běhaweho
domasa

Je třoch palcow před
Dwějomaj słncomaj a slepjenych woči w z boha
Jednej čmě

Pada dale do wjedra
běo domoj
pada běo dale
domoj
do wjedra

To běi a běi
nas wědny Wtce-Na





How many legs
Work forces
Seven colours
Blue and red
Into the white-like
Endless human patience
Endless human warmth
Work forces
Into the colourless

Six gods
Five legs
Five arms
In four deserts

Three retired thumbs
Explore cheese-holes
Edible, detourable
Reaching a bit of the amorphous
Out of the fluid

Three thumbs
Covering two suns
Dazzled eyes in
One darkness

Further he falls
Into the weather
Homewards

Our daily Our Father
And runs

(Mat, 2000)


 

Kommentare

mato nawka schrieb:
Being born in 2000 this is a piece which tries to describe a certain kind of homelessness. The roots, which I called my home, are shaken by day work and cycling, concretistic thoughts. Returning home, changed. The longer the walk, the longer the way and the more uncertain a return.
The three colours of the Sorbian flag: blue, red and white. Despite of all nationalistic tendencies this symbol is part of my inborn sorbian-catholic home. In the running and planning which I call my day ocean-like blue and red warmth turn to cold white colourlessness. In a permanent search for grip we run in deduction, a dazzled stumbling. Influences and experiences melt down; numbers, falling down from seven to one are just words, meditation. A Sartre-related glibbering appears, explored in moments of a fluid life-stream-boredom, cheese-holes rule, more or less cheesy. Nothingness. Darkness covers the one core of being.
Finally a possible arrival, an inner home, stormy. No solidity, this is a definite core, surface and ground, mixed with the warmth of the mother-tongue, the emotional equivalent.
Mato, SH, April 2004
08.07.06 - 04:03:08
tramadol schrieb:
24.04.07 - 07:10:18
24.04.07 - 07:12:25

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