Sadism

The future is swallowing us
Write a report !

My statue pours down from your embrace
Even though your word come true
And your hands never putrefy
But it's obvious that my statue in its fall
Has made and sucked
A transient from your heart

Then for a day ,
For a couple of days ,
A matted area of the soil , the size of a flower
Is solied .
But no one reads the books in the cellar !

You're lost in the chat of the street thags
And , in the savagery of the gaze of  the myths ,
I'm exiled to the brothel .
And , then ,
You start frequenting the place .

Open doors
Are swallowing us
Write a report !

I am the holy mary
I am the atlas ( the atlantis )
The map of the world
Mildews on my pica-marked face

The stains
Knot their flowery veils
Round their fat hips ,
Sit by the ponds , and the open doors on the alleys
And womanly gossip
Brushed the eyes of heaven .

And even though the intention of the painters of the world
Be blue ,
The colour become so strong , so dark
That its tears
Fatten for the renewal of yet another spring .

Now , here ,
All elements of life are female
Even when not fattened , they have sadism ,
They have typhus !

I am holy ,
A am the atlas(atlantis)
Even though I'm full of tears ,
And I have the virginity of unrevived religions ,
I also have sadism .
Do not sleep with me !
The morning lies in ambush
With its long-fanged mouth ,
With those blood-shot , greedy eyes !
Write a report !

Father who died yesterday
Has , behind the first , the second , or the thousands turn of the road ,
Left his gigantic , other-worldy mouth open ,
Like a dark cave of hope ,
For us to enter
So that he can then close his teeth on us ,
And sacrifice us to god ,
Out of disobedience to whom ,
The entrance fee to underground brothels
( like a respected national secret )
exceeded the price of tickets to the cinemas and classical concerts ,
and it went so high up
that it broke the record of the elongation of a generation .
and the last ticket of its dynasty,
sold in the evening along its endless tail ,
was kissed by the one hundred , twenty four thousand , and first  saint !

you ought to write a report !
you should know
how disturbed my dreams have become !

every night the window panes are shattered ,
not by a football ,
or by the sarcasm of an onlooker ,
but by an undistinguishable boom from above ,
like the echo of an execution bullet from a distance !

at long last
mother manages to find a wife for my brother .
with empty handed and the flat is rented
and the threat of being turned out of all the city shelters is imminent .
nonetheless the wife manages
to legitimize , according to legitimate , the air of one rooms in the house .

- don't you see my son ,
that religion is more advanced than freedom ,
then the republic ,
and , even , than the food vouchers ?

and when all of a sudden ,
the windows panes
sprinkle down
with the boom from the sky
and we take refuge at the bottom of the house
toothed worms
circling with the scary rest of their bodies ,
hissing and hissing ,
spelling the concentraction of poison ,
" sadism….. sa…di…sm…"
lead our eyes
to the arms of the legitimate wife ,
who is the mother of this new generation .

out of exhaustion ,
and the threat of all the shelters ,
I, wisely ( even though the worms say : I'm not half as wise as the others) ,
Surrencer to one of the worms .

Next morning you'll tell me that the worms
Are the multiplicity of untreaded roads on my forehead ,
The possibility of all my unborn hopes ,
The many points in which I'll take refuge in the future .

But I surrender .
O' my prophet !
Write a report!

Translated by Hayde Daragahi