Horses in the ocean

 

My translation, based on the poem by Russian poet Boris Slutsky

(1919-1986) "Horses in the ocean". Above is video of the song by

the band "Rock Island", based on the poem with music by Victor

Berkovsky (1932-2005) "Red Island".

 

 

		Horses can swim, But not good, not far...   'Gloria', the sailing ship - trying to overcome the ocean. Lots of horses, crowded at this trip, in the cargo holds in constant motion.   1000 of horses, but 4000 horseshoes haven't brought the happy end: the bottom of the ship was pierced, pushed by the bomb, far-far away from the land.   People're boarding into the boats, rafts - while the horses - swimming by themselves! Gush, how should they act if there is no room and nobody - to help...   Vast red island in the ocean loaded, chestnut horses on uptight surface,- seemed at first it's simple to float, the ocean seemed like river path.   Only there is endless river... at the end of horses strengths... suddenly they neighed, as if disagreeing to the freedom with no chance...   Doomed poor horses went to a bottom... Who in the world will mourn this loss! Filled with sorrow my heart about them, Red ones, have not seen the earth...   

Pass On

Once dreamed fantasy made me run voluntarily to distant lands of fun, filled every split second, required life's sacrifice, be flexible at any places with images of dressed up accordingly: the suit, glasses, the faces, copy someone's grimacing, mimicking phrases, play game 'follow the leader', whenever it brings, even to a latrines to show your passion alike sitting on whoopee cushion, and fart just in time to call the motion of important person to receive the promotion - led to the loss of self... Who am I? Am I invisible of something? In this chain of characters, subordinated to instructions, algorithms of behavior haven't recognized myself in a mirror, how easy to give up your responsibilities to leader... Slow down, step wide, one woman - the island at least for while to collect parts unclaimed, allow herself be unique, not tamed, and take the road less traveled

Image credit: scenicreflections.com

Background

Chances

		Crabapple tree swelling with apples dropped midget treat touched my ankle greets me with pinkish red hue salutation late summer smile as if last time salvation time monitoring and counting chances going around and coming to haunt us

Zombie

 

 

               

Zombie fascination...

 wake up, nations

    to save souls

      & world goals

Transparency

Dancing

Doubt

		Two rays're growing up to cross at horizon while squinting the eyes you're looking at light. How lucky am I? On tiptoes rising, touching the shoulder, caught your sight, your arms're stretching up to hold me tight. Lost the balance, almost in trance I'd channel all saints if they show up, fight my loneliness, accepted as right... At loose...do not hurry... remember the moment, when sky opened up at least temporary to channel a comment of doubt...

Connection

		...called in quiet voice my inner self, trying to tame it, offered calm music, mysterious movies, silence of meditation, walking a head clearing,- received subtle soul, longing to poetry, sliding in a paradise of sea and sun, peaceful and calm work of serving others, and never it stuttered about self, hinted to my needs, deep desires... yet become closer we got disconnected this time, my soul and I...

Core: snapshot

		To brake into any frequencies cosmos - time - dimension - not limited, unlocking the doors with power of magic, trying to make brighter choices, forcing your demons to turn inside out in positive way to win the love... is that possible? To switch black and white to become superhero on the edge of wrong and right, and in extremal moment out of control, gotten the freedom express the power to show the devil side to destroy the life... 

Image credit: smcm.edu

Eternity myth

		...as soon      as words of spell         chimed in the room,             orbing the last doubt                 small ambitions                       to fly away -                           memory of past losses                                  has been stripped in                                       glowing ethereal wave,                                  pierced the heart,                           bended the body                     with ripples of pain...                sorrowful sighs,            haven't come true        hopes and dreams ripped tissues rolled     bleeding with last effort          to make sense of              born feelings,                   burned emotions,                        willing to cool off                            in the ocean                                of free                                    before                                         turning                                             in eternity                                                       myth...

Foreboding

		I'm forsaking insatiable world of censure, dip in flora and fauna of my foreboding - who sings first morning quivering song? - I am not sure: timid sparrow? starlings? or robin? Wobbly bumblebee buzzing above bushy mums while the crow is stretching its wings like a missile, creaking door begs pardon for more music to come, and the distant freight train adds the concert with whistle. Sound will hang on the tree as dewdrops before fall, and surprise early walker with chimes in the air... I lift curtains, bend knees, foreboding this call, day is gaining its balance in peace with no fear.

White Rose

		Swaying at a wave of vivid images, open the window under the crown to enter the world of whimsical gestures - turn the light of integrity on to put the tender white rose in the ground, aware of its power beyond the means, above emotions, by winds surrounded, shrouded in the halo of sunbeams, meet unknown souls, reentered the ocean of Whole with crystal purity - what the breathtaking, staggering call for naive and fragile invaders of beauty!

attached

Circumstances

'not saints sculptured pots' ~ Russian proverb

The wind have changed, Mercury directs to shed the skin as snakes do during each cycle of growth. Hey, all cold-blooded, we're not irreplaceable, but - dependent on each other for body temperature. So we must be adaptive, flexible and adjust as best as we can to our circumstances, just as snakes do.

Image credit: popsci.com

True and false

Inner placed compass, aligned with 'true north', guides toward the destiny its magnetic force. Each dewdrop I swallow brings infinite joy, even breathing shallow won't cause to stall changing book of history, mixing true and false, fall in starry mystery, pointed to south.

so long

hanging

Shifting

When the Earth starts to shift - the scar - hurts, the wound - burns, but self-healing helps, life feels as gift. No scream! Neighbors take after dinner nap, the thoughts at fair wind as sailboats - arrive with increment step. 'Bend and you shall not break' Flexibility... getting stronger without ache... Temperance awaits on the corner, when cooled out under the AC, we squeeze in hot air to feel warmer, - to pour over a sudden rain with flashes of lightning to the music of heaven drums, the characters on ad panel highlighting, suggesting us how to save the money or time... The precious time speed up to heaven, perhaps it found better use in higher realm... Will love survive in garden of Eden? At least time's due not embedded in our arm...

Rebirth

Midst of the night. The moon, the watchman rolled in a cloud to sway in the dreams. Darkly skies. Cicadas - so loud. A storm's approaching. The vision's dim. Suddenly - burst! Zeus is throwing magnetic spikes cause the earth the seizure between lighting explosions light...dark...as life's rebirth. I keep my eyes open, awaiting for a shift, trying to fit in my questions and answers, the faces, the plots - before new rain hits to rinse toxic vibes and turn into...fireworks!