Showing posts with label Eliza Segiet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Eliza Segiet. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 18, 2020

Eliza Segiet writes

Paradise
 
I filled my eyes with beauty and ugliness.
In the damp basement
I recall
the murmur of the river,
which,
without paying heed to the obstacles,
douched the still boulders.
For years, in the same place
the anchored stones
did not allow the elements
to move them elsewhere.
 
The relentless, mindless
figments of the earth
are to be harder than the human?
 
I will drift with the current of life
- I will find my paradise.

--tr. Artur Komoter

Eliza Segiet writes

Brink

Poor millionaires
are like water in a dry river,
broken glass,
leafless trees.

Poor,
childless millionaires
on the verge of life
adopt heirs.

They cross the brink of darkness
in the hope that
Made in Japan will survive.

Before the end they understand
that they are both
rich and beggars,

- they lived to work.

They fulfilled their desires
with the love to work.

Everything else

they postponed
- for later.

--tr. Artur Komoter

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

Eliza Segiet writes


It Was the Same

There will no longer be home,
smoke from the chimney.
There will be no tomorrow.
Rotten beams
cannot withstand the pressure of time.
In the crooked house
a hunched woman
– waits.

It's like it used to be,
out there behind the house flows a river.
Only now
the children do not have time to look at old age.

Time took away youth
– like the night takes away the evening.

There is no longer smoke from the chimney,
no chimney,
and there behind the house
still flows a river.


-- tr. Artur Komoter
File:John Sell Cotman - Ruined House - Google Art Project.jpg
Ruined House -- John Sell Cotman

Monday, May 20, 2019

Eliza Segiet writes


Just for a Moment

If the world stopped for a moment,
I could sit,
listen to the silence that becomes,
watch how
a river stops flowing,
how the trees congeal into motionlessness.

If the world stopped for a moment,
and I with it?
I would not see
flowering meadows,
where a river becomes just a line,
and the still trees
look like sculptures,
I would not hear the ubiquitous silence.

If the world stopped
even for one day
then people –
could not hurt people.

-- tr Artur Komoter 
Click for a larger image
Scenographia Systematis Mvndani Ptolemaici (Scenography of the Ptolemaic cosmography) --  Andreas Cellarius