Polyhedron. HALF-WHISPER: The translation of poetic texts generates unexpected, and sometimes monstrous, meanings…
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Сергей Москаленко. Polyhedron. HALF-WHISPER: The translation of poetic texts generates unexpected, and sometimes monstrous, meanings…
INTRO
THE WORLD WAS SUITABLE TO THE WITNESS
I KNOW, I WIT, I KNOW – REPEAT TEN TIME
ABOUT YOUR NAME, BREATHING ALREADY ON INCENSE, ON RICHED WALLS
SNAILS OF DREAMS. THEIR HOUSES ARE EMPTY…
THE TIME OF FAREWELLS. ON CLOCKS – THE APPLE SAVIOR
BUT PUDDLES IS WINDOWS IN HEAVEN
WHEN YOU’LL CLIMB HIGHER
ONLY THE WIND IS MY MASTER NOW
THE KNEELING DAY. DECEMBER. SILENCE IS SECONDARY
WAKE UP, ALL DREAMS, LIKE STRINGS, HOLDING IN THE CAM
EVERY VERSE IS A FISTULA THROUGH WHICH OOZES SKY
AUGUST. DAWN. SUNDAY. SLEEPY PALE MOON
THERE IS MYSTERY IN CONFLUENCE. FOR THOSE WHO LEAVE, THERE IS A SIGN
THE WINNING. THE WINDOW IS UNBUTTONED LIKE A BLOUSE
THE TIME WILL TELL. AND LIFE IS EASY WITHIN THE LIMITS OF ITS ANGLES
THE COLD FLAME. FREEDOM AND FORCE. AT ACCEPTANCE, AS IF IN GLASS
SO MANY REPETITIONS ABOUT YOUSELF… BEAR SO MUCH THAT THE WIND
TWO THOUSAND TEN. QUIET AND SMOOTH. AT THE COUNTRY WAS AGAIN ELECTED PRESIDENT
OH, ZORKA, THE RED MAIDEN! BLUSH AND DASHING!
POEM IS THE BLOOD FROM FRACTURES AND WOUNDS. HOW STRANGE THAT WE ARE
THERE IS NO MONEY, AS BEFORE. YOU, ARE RIGHT, AS ALWAYS
I DREAMED THAT I AM MASTER OF THE DAWN, I’M HAVING FOURTEEN HANDS
PARIS. ON THE SUMMER, THAT FULL OF TOUCHES I TASTED THIS POISON
THE FREEDOM OF THE WORDS IS MEANS, WITHOUT MIRRORS – IT IS MOVEMENT TO YOUR INDISTINGUISHABILITY
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The world was like witchcraft.
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Beat following glory
At sails or wings —
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