Sunday, February 27, 2011

For shattered dreams

Our muse is over and gone,
and the chosen one feels
as no inspiring hope
onto which cast our dreams;
and we are left to hurt and cry
pointlessly unravelling blue
as lines are filled with no bright
a path straightened to our dark doom.
Irony stands seemingly on our way
when we hope to fulfill our dreams,
as they head for turning points of life,
and allows us not to split our time,
our mind, our soul or our heart,
and shatters one merely for the sake
of feeding and nursing the next.
And this is how true love,
not seldom our ink’s stroke
fractures eager hands with swift blows
when once in the crossroad all’s been said and done.
Thus, Justice’s scale balances oneways
and we laugh and are merrily satisfied
but still up in our crimson plate,
one of us weeps for the brother sacrificed.

Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Ballad of the Devil and Death

There is a great song from the Argentine rock band La renga that is called "La Balada del Diablo y la Muerte". The song contains such a beautiful poetry and story that I've decided it was unfair that it was unknown to the rest of the world. Here is my best shot at a translation -with some liberties taken. Hope you enjoy it!

The Ballad of the Devil and Death

The Devil stood in the corner of my 'hood,
that spot where the wind turns and crosscuts meet;
and beside him stood Death, sipping whisky from a jar;
they scornfully looked at me
out of the corner of their eye
and quietly gave some chuckles out.

And I waited across that autumn street
for someone I no longer remember
through that chilly night,
that found me awake once more.

And thus I heard Death’s muttered words:
“For so long he’s wriggled out
as a rat among wild beasts,
and yet, now it’d be so smooth,
taking a new lamb, merely
by crossing the street.”

I then hid within the fog
and searched among the shadows
for the face that -I then found out-
would never come around.

With the last hope of redemption
I crossed the street as a shaky leaf
and decided to face them both.
“They’ve stood me up”, I said
and asked for light to share a smoke.

Under some yellow tree, we
drank and slacked around;
they told me about their lives,
their triumphs and misadventures;
that the World had gone insane
and even Heaven had been bought.
And even more frightened from them
I stood aghast at Men.

I no longer waited for him
but among the laughter of the coven
Death and the Devil slowly turned my friends;
where the wind turns and crosscuts meet,
that spot in the corner of my 'hood.

Here is the song:
(Perdón si esto enojó a algun fan de La Renga, hubo la mejor intención)

Saturday, February 19, 2011

On a night out

The third is down
and I am right,
I’m small, can’t hold
you see, don’t know, don’t care
shut up.

Just laugh, relax, the night
is young, and seems
to hold much. For the
haze lets me wonder, and
freely calls my me out.

But is it me? Follow
instincts and smell meat,
is it me? I don’t seem
to think that way. Not when
light shines.

Lucky liquor, the scene’s changed
and thoughts slip away. Lights
flash, up, down, and
my mind is gone
far away.

And the choking laughter,
giggles and chuckles,
closing down your chuggy throat
giving back, screaming out
for help.

That night, a blast my friend,
liquor the best, never fails!
Always waits, his warming freeing
haze, anxiously expecting,
to drink up another boy.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Of love and self-harm

Read my thoughts
and speak my words,
charm my mind
and stroke my heart.

Make me cry
and collect my tears,
touch my soul
and whip me with a cold stir.

Endow me with your eyes
and warm me in a cold winter night,
surround me with your threshing arms
of fiery warm and welcomed love.

And now pull
and draw my heart out
ashame me with my thoughts
and tell me your love of drunken hopes.

Laugh at what you see
two sore pearls, which
merely follow your
freshly wounded flirts.

Rip my soul into tears
and let my gently frozen being
to live and sweetly die
under your cold everlasting memory.