ME: Love like blood

Love like blood

is spilling around me,

it runs in my veins

and it freezes in my heart.

Prose bites: ME: Miserable in your happiness; happy in your misery

Night time Kaisaniemi, Helsinki, Finland

He once turned to her in his alcoholic delirium and asked her:

- Do you know why I smoke? – He was waiting for her reaction, but as she just kept staring at him, he went on. – Because I was broke… Flat broke you know… And heartbroken too… And completely mind-screwed, you know…

She sat back in her chair as only then she realized that this conversation was not going anywhere… Or at least nowhere nice that is. Yet, she gave some time to the marinated brain in front of her to clear from the ethanolic fumes and deliver some proper (as far as bar-talks go at least) conversation. No such luck. He kept talking nonsense, insisting how deeply philosophical meaning they had and may be they did, but one had to be near-dead-drunk to get it. Or stoned may be. She was neither. So few sophisticated thoughts blabbered-out-loud later, she stood up from the table, took the last sip from her glass. Her judgment here failed her though – the sip was slightly too big, but she couldn’t stand a minute more there and tried as hard as possible to just look very thirsty.

-   I’m leaving for home. Are you staying?

She didn’t really feel going home alone in the middle of the night and also didn’t want to sound rude and… Oh well, for a second she thought that outside in the fresh mid-March-minus-twenty weather his mind would have cleared dramatically and he’d be back to his melancholic state – melancholic but at least not depressive. The second her mouth spoke out the question, her mind regretted the thought. Now she got lucky – faster than it would have been polite, he said that he’s staying for more. More what? Drinks? Singing? She didn’t care much at that point so she granted him with a broken smile and stopping to pick her coat at the wardrobe, she left.

It was indeed fresh outside. She almost felt her eyelashes freeze. Still it was less scary than she imagined – the streets were bright, the snow was like a ceramic cover on the ground, the sky was full of stars. She decided to take a longer walk ‘till the next bus stop. As she was walking we started thinking.

- You didn’t start smoking because you were any kind of broke. – She thought – you started ‘cause you were looking for something to be dependant on. Before it was the girl you split up with, before this is was the previous job you had and hated, meanwhile it was the unfulfilled dream of being artist, and oh yes – the wonderful air-V guitar that you bought and never learned playing… You’re just addicted to being miserable, to be sad, to be missing something… All of us tend to be depressive at times, but you… You are only happy when you’re miserable! – Yes, she was happy from the conclusion; she got on the bus and went home – happy that she was happy in her happiness…

ME: Love me and hate me

You wanted me to tell you “I love you”,

you wanted me to tell you a thing,

you wanted me to give you my being,

you wanted me a love song to sing…

You wanted me to run away with you,

You wanted me to get lost in you eyes,

You wanted me to dissolve into you,

You wanted me to become you as you are.

I told you I loved you

but it still wasn’t enough

you wanted the whole of me –

part of me just wasn’t going to do.

You hated me as you reached out,

you hated the power I had

to tell you “Don’t want you!”,

to wave you away, all at once.

ME: I could take it all...

I could take it all,

but I ain’t gonna be the same

I changed, for worse,

for there is only hate that’s left.

I could be OK,

but I met you not long ago -

the One I shouldn’t have ever met

and turned to stone forever more.

I wanted out

of the evil spell you had.

I took the gun and fired it at your deceitful eyes –

and here I’m bleeding – shot, but free…

Prose bites: ME: Suomen itsenäisyyspäivä

Siltanen baari... Last year, for the Finnish independence day it was snowing like hell, there was a meter of snow on the ground and I was having a German breakfast with a Finnish friend at that same bar...

How two days are never similar to each other... 

This year I did have Norwegian salmon, there was barely snow on the ground, but at least it snowed a bit, the friend is kind-of-dead, I don't care about it and I met several other friends...

Life on earth is a surprise - enjoy it while you are still on it and not yet under!

ME: Jouluun lumi

Aleksanterinkatu, Helsinki

As snow covers the ground

relief runs through my veins.

Everything’s under blanket of whiteness,

                                                dead,

just to come back to life in a while!

ME: До утре

"— До утре ти ще престоиш.

— До утре! — каза Финдли."

Финдли oт Робърт Бърнс

„- До утре ти ще престоиш…”
- До утре да е… – казах аз - 
Нима си сигурен, че утре
светът ни няма да се свърши?
Тогава твоето „до утре”
ще е до край света
и вечно мой ще си тогава!

ME: Сутрин

В синьо-розово утро

хладен въздух мълчи.

Кафеварката тъжно заплака

с ароматни, гъсто-черни сълзи.

Тостерът плахо въздъхна

с кълбета вкусни мъгли.

В синьо-розово утро

родих се за смели мечти,

в лилаво-червената вечер

ще умра с надежди сами.

ME: Me and my world

What’s wrong with my world,

with my mind and my soul?

My days standing still,

my years rushing by.

My eyes are seeing through you,

my thoughts, blind-folded, sleep.

My hands are searching for support,

my feet are running with the winds.

I build my world up every morning

just to break it down by dusk.

I hate what lives around me

just to fall in love on second thought.

I write a symphony of joy and wisdom

just to play grotesque, false song until the end.

I set my dreams up high to follow

just to bury them into the soil.

What’s wrong with me and my perceptions?

Why I’m always smiling when I cry?

Why I set the world behind me

as I am rushing into its colorful vibes?

Prose bites: An end of a love story

If somehow you're interested in reading a small dialogue between a woman and a man on how their life together did not work as expected, then turn to "A LITTLE TABLE IN THE CORNER". I read it in <Twenty-Five 5-Minute Power Scenes> book by Lena Harris and as simple as it is, it is also very touching... You might have been part of a scene like this yourself, and at least for me - this is what makes it work so well.

ME: And owe you no debt

You had something I wanted,

something I didn’t dare to ask,

something I hung for to you

something I dreamed of day and night.

You left me behind but I managed,

to get what I wanted myself,

to get what I need and without you

to enjoy it and owe you no debt.

МЕ: Не е поезия

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

Обичам те!

--------------------------------------------

Казах ви, че не е поезия! :)

МЕ: Няма ги цветните лодки

Няма ги цветните лодки

наперено издули платна,

целували вълните игриви

с отблясък в лазур и светлина.

Отплава последната малка

безветрена, самотна мечта,

напусна пристана тъжно

с бърборещ сърдито мотор.

Отлетяха далече и птиците

към топла далечна земя

преследващи дъгите и ярките

вечно цъфтящи цветя.

Оставам тук насред пусто

пристанище и сама

виждам как умира природата

и чакам своята зимна съдба.

ME: Автопортрет

Събýди демоните в мене,

отрóви чистата душа,

помътняха очите ми кафеви,

просъскаха и устните в захлас.

Разплетоха се змии в косите,

впиха зъби моето лице

и станах аз свърталище на бесове

и всички смъртни грехове.

ME: If I could

If I could fly

I’d fly away, up high

would reach for the sky

would never again cry.

If I could swim

I’d dive deep within

the waters of grim

oceans of sin.

If I could sing

I’d praise evil eyes

who stripped my disguise

and tore me apart.

If I could fight

I’d fight your dark spells

and break all the chains

that shackle me here.

МЕ: Как мразя те!

Как мразя те,

сама не зная –

далечен, непознат, недостижим,

как мислите крадеш ми нагло

и сънищата ми без жал рушиш.

Мечтите ми отвличаш бясно

обличаш ги с неземни багрила,

зашиваш устните ми сини,

да не продумат магиите за „свобода”.

Взора ми властно, без милост

отвръщаш към тебе сега,

ръцете откъсваш ги хищно-

Да галят твойто лице през света.

Как мразя те, че от мене отне ме,

как те обичам, че те има до мен!

ME: Fake it!

I won’t pretend that I’m happy

just to secure random people’s inner peace.

I won’t pretend that I’m sad

just to let someone feast on my torments.

I’ll cry when I want

and as hard as I can

 and

 I will laugh through the tears

from the top of my lungs.

I will let myself go

deep with  the swell

 and

 I will burn down myself

in the fires of Hell.

So I could wake from the dead

and turn back and say

“I’ve lived to the fullest

for at least one last day!”

ME: The things I don't know

I don’t know

If androids do dream of electric sheep,

But I know

I dream of things, of you, of us.

I don’t know

if my dream will wake to be true,

but I know

this is all I’m asking from you.

I don’t know

if you can harm and cause pain,

but I know

you can bring me love and joy.

I don’t know

if you know me at all,

but I know

I don’t know myself…

And I don’t know which way I should go,

and when I should leave.

I don’t know if I’ll get there in time,

and I don’t know how hard I can try.

ME: Like a dry river

Like the remains of a river

run wild, for centuries, deep,

all that’s left under the sun -

a tortured clay bank

and smoking Devil’s gun.

ME: На мама и татко

С измръзнали пръсти

пробягвам по пода -

като малко дете

от чудовища бягам.

От ярката крушка

остана само чернилка,

изгасна със нея

и моята смелост.

Къде си сега,

да се скрия при тебе

под завивките топли,

                                    мамо?

Къде си сега,

да изплашиш ламята

и демона да прогониш,

                                    татко?

ME: Thousand to one

I had thousand reasons

not to stay around

and was hanging

on this one.

I saw the signs

along the way

and looked aside

every time.

Did I have to fall

so low to know

that you were

dragging me down.

ME: A madman for a firend

I knew a man,

I used to like him,

despite the fact

that he was mad.

His thoughts,

whenever sober

were fun to read

and be within.

His best of friends

were very nasty,

swirling down

to devil’s home.

They brought him pain

and sick ideas,

I left him back –

insane and lonely.

ME: Walking in circles // Разходка във кръгове

Walking at night

on a long dirty street,

my steps like gunshots

dub my goods and my mistakes.

My footmarks of mud

subtitle my path -

back in black blood,

resurrected I’m here

just to live through the pain

and die all over again.


-------------------------------------------

Вървя през нощта

по прашно-дългите улици,

стъпките ми като пушечни изстрели

озвучавай моите дела.

Следите ми, калните -

Бележки под линия на мойта съдба –

завърнах се в черно и кървава,

възкръснала, тук съм

да преживея отново всяка тъга

и с цел-единствена – пак да умра!

---------------

Преводът не е буквален и е по изричната молба на много специален човек. :)

ME: Tools

I gave you a pair of

rusty, sharp scissors

but you cut the rope

that held you.

I gave you a piece

red, silky ribbon

but you decided

to hang yourself on it.

I gave you a string

of shiny, black pearls

but you’ve changed them

for mercury drops and drank them with tea.

It’s not my fault if I

give you a weapon

and you kill yourself

instead of killing your pains.

ME: All the good things

Sun is shining so bright on me -

it hurts.

Rainbows swerve all over my sky -

I’m blinded.

Raindrops washing away my pains -

I’m drowning.

Winds fill out my sails –

I’m suffocating.

All people around me caring –

I’m torn.

ME: Аз зная

Не мислиш, че аз сама те познавам…

По погледа ми учуден

и даже с лека насмешка,

съдиш че не.

Аз обаче зная какво искаш

и това не съм аз.

Така че не ме и измъчвай

с приказки празни

и смешни игри,

и аз няма да роня

напук и насила

горчиви сълзи.

Върви си и тук пак ти не се връщай

тук никога няма да намериш наши общи съдби.

ME: На разсъмване

Крясъци неми раздират мъглата

и в грозен шум давят нощта.

Бесовете обземат всяка частица

останала разум във мойта душа.

През гори и полета бягам боса, сама -

търся посока, по черен път да поема,

по него да тръгна и да стигна света,

накрай който теб да намерея, на разсъмване…

Когато сънят ми умира бавно едва…

ME: На сбогуване

Не си и помисляй с пръст да докоснеш

моите слепи, разплакани, черни очи!

Не поглеждай към мене, обърни се, върви си

и не се обръщай назад, за мен дори не мисли!!!

Нямаш право дори и на ум да извикваш

моето име, нито моите празни ръце,

не събуждай в спомени моите болки,

даже в сънища не прониквай в моите мечти!

По дяволите иди и при мен не се връщай,

вратата заключи зад гърба си – не искам да чувам

твоите лъжи и безцелно-безлични брътвежи

за измислени цели и мъртви земи!

ME: Безсмислици

Колко красиви са цветовете на земята,

как хубаво умират малките листа.

Аз не исках да те мразя и забравям,

но ти добре се постара!

ME: Кукла

Превърнах се в кукла на дълги конци -

танцувам, говоря и пея по нечии сбъркани, грозни мечти.

Объркани знаци и случайни насоки

ме водят единствени, ужким напред.

С гримирани мигли и празни очи,

с разтворени устни и глухи уши,

с разстроени звуци и през тъмни мъгли,

живея чужди животи и печеля чужди игри.