z listów na wyczerpanych łączach

falling lovely and amazing

Nie muszę rozumieć

Maybe

Once again, once again, once again, once again, once again...

Od brzegu do brzegu

Waiting for a better time

Nie ma się siły na nowe wpisy. Na razie. Myśli w głowie dużo, ale nie ma się siły, nie ma się czasu, nie ma się miejsca na...

Royskopp, What else is there

It was me on the road

But you couldn't see me

Too many lights out, but nowhere near here

It was me on that road

Still you couldn's see me

And the flashlights and explosions

Roads are getting nearer

We cover distance but not together

I am the storm and I am the wonder

And the flashlights nightmares

And sudden explosions

I don't know what more to ask for

I was given just one wish

It's about you and the sun

A morning sun

The story of my maker

What I have and what I ache for

I've got a golden ear

I cut and I spear

And what else is there

Roads are getting nearer

We cover distance still not together

If I am the storm if I am the wonder

Will I have flashlights nightmares

And sudden explosion

There's no room where I can go and

You've got secrets too

I don't know what more to ask for

I was given just one wish

Miłość, która nie przemija

Nie słucham go na co dzień, najczęściej słucham go, kiedy mi źle. I wtedy przez chwilę jeszcze bardziej mi źle, a potem jest już tylko lepiej. Nie jestem oryginalna - Cave'a słucham od jego najbardziej "popowego" sukcesu, czyli "Ballad Morderców", ale wolę go sprzed tej komercyjnej płyty. Nie przeszkadza mi, że fałszuje i zawodzi i że się powtarza. Jest sobą. I nawet jak śpiewa ckliwie o miłości, to wiem, że, jak na cynika przystało, śpiewa i z przymrużeniem oka, i z bólem w sercu. Nick Cave jest w pewnym sensie "mój".

Zablokuj faszyzm!

I can fly!

Wpadłam...

Słucham...

Rozpływam się...

Lecę...

O pisaniu poezji

Jose Luis Peixoto

when i got tired of lying to myself

when i got tired of lying to myself,
i started writing a book of poetry.

it was two hours ago that i decided, but it was too
long ago that i started growing tired. fatigue
is a gradual skin like autumn. pause.

it rests slowly on the flesh, like leaves

on earth, and it ingrains it to the bone,
like the leaves ingrain the earth and touch
the death and become fertile at their side.

the city continues on the streets, the girls laugh,

but there's a secret that brews in silence.
it's the words, free, the books unwritten,
what will come in future seasons.

there's always hope at the bottom of the avenues.
but there are puddles of waters on the sidewalks. there's cold,
there's fatigue, there are two hours ago that i decided, autumn.

and my body doesn't want to lie, and what is
not my body, the time, knows that
i've many poems to write

Plan na najbliższy nadchodzący rok: wrócić do nauki portugalskiego :)

to nawet nie jest strach

Co ja bym zrobiła bez Pustek...

Czasami z pogardą

Za każdym razem, kiedy tego słucham w wykonaniu Jacka Bończyka, mam normalne ciary...

I jeszcze jeden Bończyk... Mistrz piosenki aktorskiej :)

Leonard Cohen forever :)

Cohena zaczęłam słuchać w liceum. Pamiętam, że tłumaczyłam teksty jego piosenek na polski, starając się nie inspirować wersjami Zębatego, szukałam swoich metafor. Dziś tych tłumaczeń nie ma, zagubiły się w otchłaniach życiowych zmian i przeprowadzek. Świat w piosenkach Cohena mnie fascynował i inspirował w pewnym sensie - przez jakiś czas próbowałam nawet pisać podobnie jak on. Pamiętam też, że moja fascynacja trwała, dopóki nie pożyczyłam jego powieści z biblioteki. "Piękni przegrani" to już nie była moja bajka - była zbyt wulgarna jak na moją wrażliwość, miałam chyba nawet poczucie oszukania. W każdym razie zostały pieśni, do których często wracam, a wśród nich ta o Suzanne. Na drugim miejscu, gdybym miała wybierać, byłaby "Take this Waltz", a potem "If it be your will" (rewelacyjny cover jest w wykonaniu Anthony'ego), "Take this longing",. "Famous Blue Raincoat", "Bird on a wire", "I'm your man", "Hallelujah", "I tried to leave you", "Partisan", "Hey, that's no way to say goodbye", "Sisters of Mercy", "Dance me to the end of love"... i wiele, wiele innych.

Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river

You can hear the boats go by

You can spend the night beside her

And you know that she's half crazy

But that's why you want to be there

And she feeds you tea and oranges

That come all the way from China

And just when you mean to tell her

That you have no love to give her

Then she gets you on her wavelength

And she lets the river answer

That you're always been her lover

And you want to travel with her

And you want to travel blind

And you know that she will trust you

For you've touched her perfect body with your mind

And Jesus was a sailor

When he walked upon the water

And he spent a long time watching

From his lonely wooden tower

And when he knew for certain

Only drowning men could see him

He said "All men will be sailors then

Until the sea shall free them"

But he himself was broken

Long before the sky would open

Forsaken, almost human

He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone

And you want to travel with him

And you want to travel blind

And you think maybe you'll trust him

For he's touched your perfect body with his mind

Now Suzanne takes your hand

And she leads you to the river

She is wearing rags and feathers

From Salvation Army counters

And the sun pours down like honey

On our lady of the harbour

And she shows you where to look

Among the garbage and the flowers

There are heroes in the seaweed

There are children in the morning

They are leaning out for love

And they will lean that way forever

While Suzanne holds the mirror

And you want to travel with her

And you want to travel blind

And you know that you can trust her

For she's touched your perfect body with her mind

I uwielbiam też wiersz, melorecytację "A thousand kisses deep".

Don't matter if the road is long

Don't matter if it's steep

Don't matter if the moon is gone

And the darkness is complete

Don't matter if we lose our way

It's written that we'll meet

At least, that's what I heard you say

A thousand kisses deep

I loved you when you opened

Like a lily to the heat

You see, I'm just another snowman

Standing in the rain and sleet

Who loved you with his frozen love

His second hand physique

With all he is and all he was

A thousand kisses deep

I know you had to lie to me

I know you had to cheat

You learned it on your father's knee

And at your mother's feet

But did you have to fight your way

Across the burning street

When all our vital interests lay

A thousand kisses deep

I'm turning tricks

I'm getting fixed

I'm back on boogie street

I'd like to quit the business

But I'm in it, so to speak

The thought of you is peaceful

And the file on you complete

Except what I forgot to do

A thousand kisses deep

Don't matter if you're rich and strong

Don't matter if you're weak

Don't matter if you write a song

The nightingales repeat

Don't matter if it's nine to five

Or timeless and unique

You ditch your life to stay alive

A thousand kisses deep

The ponies run

The girls are young

The odds are there to beat

You win a while, and then it's done

Your little winning streak

And summon now to deal with your invincible defeat

You live your life as if it's real

A thousand kisses deep

I hear their voices in the wine

That sometimes did me seek

The band is playing Auld Lang Syne

But the heart will not retreat

There's no forsaking what you love

No existential leap

As witnessed here in time and blood

A thousand kisses deep

feeling blue

Pierwsza myśl

Grochowiakiem zacząć to jak na mistrza swojego powołać go - niech tak będzie. Jego metaforyka i umiłowanie tego, co niekochane, nieoczywiste, ulotne i jednocześnie zmysłowo ciężkie bardzo są mi bliskie. Grochowiak z wyboru, ale przypomniany zupełnie przypadkiem, na zasadzie skojarzenia, najpierwszej myśli. Grochowiak - "taka mi teraz jesteś..." - znalezione po latach i zawsze od nowa świeże.

* * * [Taka mi teraz jesteś...]

Taka mi teraz jesteś coraz gorzka krzepka

Jakbym szukał u ciebie pod głowę pagórka

Nie jesteś mi już trznadel że dmuchnąć ci w piórka

A ty mi się ostaniesz złotą garstką ciepła

Taka mi teraz jesteś jakbym znalazł drzewo

Na które wchodzę piersią przed ostatnią metą

I na próżno się bronisz płochliwa kobieto

Taka mi teraz jesteś wśród wieku męskiego

/Stanisław Grochowiak/