Sleepless City. Federico García Lorca.sobota, srpna 17, 2013
Out in the sky, nobody sleeps. Nobody, nobody, nobody sleeps. Lunar creatures sniff and roam outside the cabins. Living iguanas will...
Out in the sky, nobody sleeps. Nobody, nobody, nobody sleeps.
Lunar creatures sniff and roam outside the cabins.
Living iguanas will bite those who do not dream.
And he who runs with a broken heart will meet, on corners,
the incredible crocodile, unmoving, under the tender protest of the stars.
On Earth, nobody sleeps. Nobody, nobody, nobody sleeps.
There is a dead man in the furthest cemetery
moaning for the landscape of his knee.
And the boy, buried this morning, cried so much
they had to call the dogs to silence him.
Life is not a dream. Beware! Beware! Beware!
We fall down flights of stairs and fill our mouths with dirt.
Or we rise to the edge of snowfall under the choir of dead dahlias.
But there is no forgetting. No dream. Living flesh. Kisses tie mouths in a bundle of new veins.
And he who feels pain will feel pain without rest.
And he who fears death will carry death on his shoulders.
horses will live in the taverns,
and the furious ants
will attacks the yellow skies that take refuge in the eyes of cattle.
we shall see the resurrection of dead butterflies,
and even among a panorama of gray sponges and mute vessels
we shall see our shining ring and roses bloom from our mouths.
Beware! Beware! Beware!
Those who still hold paw prints and memories of rain,
that boy who cries because he doesn’t know the invention of bridges,
or that corpse who owns no more than his head and a shoe,
we must take them to the wall where the iguanas and serpents wait,
where the jaws of the Grizzly wait,
where mummified hands of children wait,
and camel’s fur rises in a violent blue chill.
Out in the sky, nobody sleeps. Nobody, nobody.
But if someone closes his eyes,
whip them, my children, whip them!
Let there be a landscape of open eyes
and sour burning wounds.
On Earth, nobody sleeps. Nobody, nobody.
I have this before.
But if someone, by night, has an excess of moss on their temples,
open the trapdoors so they may see under the moon
the false wine cups, the poison, and the skull of theaters.
svět je plnej umění, myšlenek, příběhů a lidí, co si zaslouží pozornost.
ale v hromadění věcí nikdo nic takovýho najít nemůže, protože to tam není. hromadění věcí je falešný rozptýlení.