Poem – A Word of Numbers

To express truth

A word of numbers-

Not necessary.

But the worm of

Conscience is a must.
To continue the process

of dialogue, but

Transparency and trust

is a must.

Outcry has no value.
Show not your

Humdrumness at any time.

To hunt out the truth

is the call of life. 

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Poem – I can Still See You 

I can still see you: an Echo,

to be touched with Feeler-

Words, on the Parting-

Ridge.
Your face softly shies away,

when all at once there is

lamp-like brightness

in me, at the Point,

where most painfully one says Never. 

Poem – Into The Blue

From morning we tirelessly squander ourselves into the blue,

which falls short of the border between water and sky.

Into the blue in which the swimming routes of fish cross

with the flight lines of birds.

Into the blue in which the slow movement of ships

cross the glittering fuselages of aeroplanes.

Into the blue

which though the power of its will

casts us back on to a sandy beach

together with other things over and above,

together with the dead bodies of fish, crabs and medusas,

together with fragments of seaweed,

tiny pebbles,

tops of Coca-Cola bottles,

together with scraps of paper

closed in bottles of sweet drinks.

We always read from the beginning

and on each side

these letters without lettering

completely whitened by the life-giving sun,

which knows very well whom to give a chance to and whom to not.

We read letters without lettering

and understand them frozenly.

We read letters without lettering

wept over by foaming waves

from which life comes,

sound, color and the divine.

The descendants of goddesses today dwell

in the endless rivieras of the whole world.

they declare nakedness

and godlike motor boats, cars, beaches, apartments,

music, films

and above all godlike men. 

At an ice-cream kiosk

I fell head over heels with one for the hundredth time.

It’s of no account

but it was her

with whom I shared a few experiences, memories,

children.

I fell in love with her completely

without reservation.

From the ice-cream stands

naked poster girls smiled at us

and the portrait of a statesman

wearing a admiral’s white uniform

in the blue background,

which could represent water as well as sky

and in which could move

atomic submarines as well as jet planes

and neon fish as well as rainbow birds.
(1985) 

Poem – Morning Prayer 

Now another day is breaking,

Sleep was sweet and so is waking.

Dear Lord, I promised you last night

Never again to sulk or fight.

Such vows are easier to keep

When a child is sound asleep.

Today, O Lord, for your dear sake,

I’ll try to keep them when awake. 

Poem – To M

Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire,

With bright, but mild affection shine:

Though they might kindle less desire,

Love, more than mortal, would be thine.
For thou art form’d so heavenly fair,

Howe’er those orbs may wildly beam,

We must admire, but still despair;

That fatal glance forbids esteem.
When Nature stamp’d thy beauteous birth,

So much perfection in thee shone,

She fear’d that, too divine for earth,

The skies might claim thee for their own.
Therefore, to guard her dearest work,

Lest angels might dispute the prize,

She bade a secret lightning lurk,

Within those once celestial eyes.
These might the boldest Sylph appall,

When gleaming with meridian blaze;

Thy beauty must enrapture all;

But who can dare thine ardent gaze?
‘Tis said that Berenice’s hair,

In stars adorns the vault of heaven;

But they would ne’er permit thee there,

Who wouldst so far outshine the seven.
For did those eyes as planets roll,

Thy sister-lights would scarce appear:

E’en suns, which systems now control,

Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. 

Poem – To Lesbia

Lesbia! since far from you I’ve ranged,

Our souls with fond affection glow not;

You say ’tis I, not you, have changed,

I’d tell you why,–but yet I know not.
Your polish’d brow no cares have crost;

And, Lesbia! we are not much older,

Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,

Or told my love, with hope grown bolder
Sixteen was then our utmost age,

Two years have lingering past away, love!

And now new thoughts our minds engage,

At least I feel disposed to stray, love!
‘Tis I that am alone to blame,

I, that am guilty of love’s treason;

Since your sweet breast is still the same,

Caprice must be my only reason.
I do not, love! suspect your truth,

With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not;

Warm was the passion of my youth,

One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.
No, no, my flame was not pretended,

For, Oh! I loved you most sincerely;

And–though our dream at last is ended–

My bosom still esteems you dearly.
No more we meet in yonder bowers;

Absence has made me prone to roving;

But older, firmer hearts than ours

Have found monotony in loving.
Your cheek’s soft bloom is unimpeair’d,

New beauties still are daily bright’ning,

Your eye for conquest beams prepared,

The forge of love’s resistless lightning.
Arm’d thus, to make their bosoms bleed,

Many will throng to sigh like me, love!

More constant they may prove, indeed;

Fonder, alas! they ne’er can be, love! 

Prolonging My Understanding -Pavol Janik 

For a while I hesitated,

at the place where one enters.

And then so many mirrors

as if after death or during it.

And so many unreal girls

in the shallow depths of the glass.

There, where I entered for the last time

still as a boy with portraits

of Pierre Brice and Lex Barker in a pocket,

was the window of a small wine tavern.

And above it the warning signals

of red pelargonia

had permanently remained.

These inexorable semaphores

which didn’t permit me

to speak in the direction of the wind

and turn aside as the wall approached.

I grew up

to the level of salaries,

the length of debts,

to measurable historical latitudes

and to a size

where the era of dieting begins.

Now only my hair grows

slowly and completely pointlessly.

and thus I come

to prolonging my understanding

and ridding myself of the purchasing power

of a powerless Samson.