Tak som sa konecne dockal noveho vydania tejto klasiky s lepsim zvukom z USA a skoro som sa z neho zas po...l.
Na nete som este nasiel anglicky preklad textov, takze ak by to niekto mal a chcel vediet o com sa tam spieva, moze si precitat.
INTRODUCTION
The voice told
to the last who
remained in the world
the true reality.
And then ordered
to go to its people
to tell the truth
and the game started.
That voice pressed the chest
with the pain of the things understood
perhaps (it or he ?) was in time to tell
also to the others
perhaps (it or he ?) was in time to tell
also to the others.
What’s the life of a man who has cried
like seeing a clear sky
like staring your eyes into the sun
like catching a hand holded out.
And the voice pressed the chest
with the pain of lived things
he had to go soon, he had
to go soon.
Poetry of a windy day
the last leaf of a dead tree
the first April sunny day
a warm body a hand nearby.
FIRST MEETING
He went beyond the mounts and beyond again
never turning back to look
long is the journey he has to do
but he has to go yet.
A man is here, with the face downwards
and ivy already embraces his body
black is all his blood
wounds of ripped ears.
The voice forced him to shout
all that was to die inside himself
and all he shouted was brought away by the wind
and he would never hear something.
SECOND MEETING
He’ll see, he’ll see
even if he doesn’t be able to hear
what can tell him
a clear sky.
A face of an old man
already next to death
wasn’t faith before
now it’s strong.
The look of a man
who doesn’t fear…
what is he if he miss
a steady voice
he has seen: the night,
the ending day,
women in the dark
who were ready to betray,
hands holded out,
absent faces,
good people die,
mighty people rejoice.
But he didn’t remain thinking
he had something to search for
and night not came, nor the day
and the horizon remained over there.
He did not surrender
he did never surrender
he didn’t asked himself:
man, where’re you going?
What he saw was another man
with his arms cross-bended
and he did not hear his voice…
he came near him and spoke to him.
But in those eyes with no light
prickly thorns were infixed
then he felt those wounds as his own
and then light went away.
THIRD MEETING AND EPILOGUE
With spreaded arms
for the road in the darkness he searched
with the fingers a shape (something) he felt.
All he could feel
was
death’s coldness
between his hands,
his true word
came up from his chest another time.
But his mouth
tired and motionless remained
that shout crushed him,
ripped him inside
and the darkness around
came inside him
and light was never more.
