This website is using cookies

We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue without changing your settings, we'll assume that you are happy to receive all cookies on this website. 

Válek, Miroslav: Word (I) (Slovo (1) in English)

Portre of Válek, Miroslav

Slovo (1) (Slovak)

Komunistickej strane, ktorá ma učí stať sa človekom

Prečítajú ju, zívnu z hĺbky sál,
akoby zívli levy: „Napísal.
O všetkom niečo. Báseň. Slovíčka."
Ó, poézia, krásna vdovička,
toľkých si mala! Teba nemal nik?

Ani ten blázon, čudák, romantik,
ktorý si tebou svietil v tmavom byte;
stačilo škrtnúť telom o telo
a žilo sa, aj keď to bolelo?

Približné je to, je to neurčité:
podivuhodné curriculum vitae.
Milujete sa, ale neľúbite,
no vcelku prosté: treba čím skôr ísť.

To je tá láska: táto nenávisť;
veď on vie, že zasa s niekým spíš,
že to, čo hladká, je len hebký plyš,
že patrí ti, že ty mu nepatríš.
A spravila si, len čo robia sny:

Prázdny kút v srdci, vôňa po básni.

A istota, že zas sa budú vracať
nádeje, lásky, dažde jesenné.
Iba tá pieseň, len tá pieseň nie.

Idú piesne dokola,
okolo stola -la -la...

Len jedna pieseň kdesi zaspala.
A jedna horko plakala.



Uploaded byRépás Norbert
PublisherKALLIGRAM, Edícia: Knižnica slovenskej literatúry
Source of the quotationMiroslav Válek - Básnické dielo, ISBN: 80-7149-795-9
Bookpage (from–to)211-212
Publication date

Word (I) (English)

To the communistic party which teach me to be a human being

They'll read it they'll yawn from the bottomless throat
as if the lions have yawned: “Well, he wrote.
A bit of everything. A poem, a word blow.”
Oh, poetry a glamorous widow,
so many were yours! You belong to none?

Not even to that fool deprived of the sun,
in the dark flat he so yearned for your light;
to rub a body against a body was enough
and we lived although it was painful and tough?

It's approximate, uncertain, not quite…;
an odd curriculum vitae, all right.
You love each other though you don't like,
simple at bottom, w'got to go, it's late.

That's that poetic affection: this hatred;
he knows you are a cheaply squeaking girl,
that what he stokes is coldly shining fur,
that he belongs to you though you him spurn.
And you have done which the mere dreams do then:

The empty corner at heart and the scent after a poem.

And the certainty that all will come back
all those hopes and loves the rains of the Fall.
Just that song, just that song will not call.

The songs are walking around,
round the table round and round…

Just one song somewhere messed around.
And the one was crying found.



Uploaded byRépás Norbert
PublisherAmazon Kindle Edition
Source of the quotationCollection of Poems: Miroslav Válek, ASIN: B00V6YBLWK
Publication date

minimap