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Lebedyenko Berborodov Poem
you,
dear
were my depraved,
inelegant
swan.
envisioned in the moonlight -
romanticized,
wearing your cheap,
red lipstick - and
desperate to ravish me.
if you did not love me
the succulent fruit upon
lip and breast would diminish here and now.
i said, what man is without his mistress,
and you smiled, exposing those crooked teeth.
i love you,
much more than i loved you then.
you seem to have adopted the image of an ill bird,
and in my dreams misery has approached you,
shackled you;
condemned you to love a furious man.
i am sorry i could not endure with you,
the tempestuous love for beauty.
i did not wish to search for you,
because i feared that you might be more appealing
with those poignant bruises upon your face,
declaring your mistake.
i remember, in the morning,
your breath was like a toxic thunder,
as you prepared your quivering lips to kiss me,
i did not know i loved you then,
but i love you now.
and when daylight breaks through the aperture of the night, my lovely sin,
i will perish, because even now i love your transparent shadow.
the earth, too, is harsh to me
on burning sunlit mornings - and
i love you today,
much more than i loved you then.
and only on this day i have been told by the wind
that you are alive and well,
but not happy.
Copyright © Lebedyenko Berborodov | Year Posted 2012
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Details |
Lebedyenko Berborodov Poem
When the earth crumbles
Into something foreign and
Suffocates me—dead
Like a spider in the water,
I realise what has been bothering me all along:
It is my own mortality
A distant song
A bad fatality
A cool, unopened telephone
A modern dial
What’s the use in trying
To make life what it will never be
A pleasure is not what life is about
Because around you people are dying
And there’s no time for crying
So what is there to do
When the earth crumbles
Into something foreign and
Suffocates me so that I’m foreign, too
And everyone around me is foreign—dead
—Alive—wishing to be dead—wishing to be alive-
Wanting to give
What we don’t have to give,
Like a man inclined to drink himself to death
On an evening like every other evening
On a night like every other night -
I take the shining bullet
That my father left behind
Because what use is there to live
In an alien world where everyone is alien to everyone
And wishing to break free, not to be alien
Not to be sinners but to regain redemption
We’re all so sorry for what we have done
When the earth crumbles
Into something foreign
And suffocates me again so that I am dead
And the bullet that has often shined doesn’t seem to shine so much any more,
I will escape all that is alien by shooting myself in the brain
And hope that death is not alien
When I have always suspected that death is the same
Copyright © Lebedyenko Berborodov | Year Posted 2012
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