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Válek, Miroslav: Sentimentálne Vianoce

Portre of Válek, Miroslav

Sentimentálne Vianoce (Slovak)

To sú tie šťastné Vianoce.
Siroty mrznú po stovkách jak vrany,
kým na nás letia biele oceány,
korene slnka stále trápi smäd.
Sivé a ťažké hviezdy z olova
lejeme spolu do priezračnej vody,
okolo domu vlčia svorka chodí
a ty si moja láska staniolová,
budem jesť s tebou tmavý, horský med.

Obchádzam ťa v kruhu,
prezerám si ťa žltým pohľadom.
Bláznivé husle, vlčie zavýjanie,
na zadné zrazu postavil sa dom.

Pre teba, láska, mimózu a hrom!

Miluj ma!
Buď vlhká ako noc,
buď ako studňa hlboká.
Ja práve ako slnko
horľavý
a smútný som.

Vody sa zdvihli, zapráskal bič potoka,
usmiali sa utopenci pod ľadom.
A mne už skoro spadne na stôl hlava,
zdĺhavý Mesiac ma v okne podrezáva,
blesk krvi,
šabľa,
horí sad.
Počujem v peci veselého diabla
oheň rozbíjať.

A to sú tie šťastné Vianoce,
tá hudba zvonov,
tá tichá noc,
ten domov.

Ryšavé blchy z ohňa na zem skáču,
svrbí ma ruka na ten nežný krk.
A izba modravie jak pri zváraní kovov.
Náramky,
škrtiči jej úbeľových rúk.

Ale nie.
Ani nie.
Jej útle ruky váhavo zvoniace,
dve krotké ovečky,
schádzajú z môjho tela.
Obloha zhasla,
Zem mi uletela.

Aleluja,
aleluja,
už som spasený.

Zvon! Zvon!
Celé mesto medené jak zvon.

Ach, tá mladosť boľavá,
karmínový svet!
Plakala a volala.

Zvon, zvon, zvon!

Bol to neuveriteľný beh.
Na jazyku ešte sladla mi jak perník.
Boli biele Vianoce,
padal čierny
sneh.


Sentimental Christmas (English)

This is our happy Christmastide.
Hundreds of orphans freezing like black crows
while white-spumed oceans rush up to enclose
us and its thirsting roots torment the sun.
Grey, heavy stars of melted lead we cast
together into clear transparent water
while round the house a pack of wolves moves past.
And you’re my silver-paper love,
let’s eat some dark-gold mountain honey.

I walk around you in a circle.
I scrutinize you hard in yellow wonder.
Mad violins and howl of wolves,
the house resists, it won’t go under.

For you, my love, mimosa blooms and thunder!

Love me!
Be moist as the night,
be like a bottomless well!
I’m burning like the sun
and thirsting
for you.

The waters have risen, the stream cracks its whip,
the drowned laugh loud beneath the ice.
My head is all but dropping on the table,
I’m cut by a sickle-moon above the gable,
a flash of blood,
a sabre,
the garden’s a pyre.
And in the stove I hear a merry devil
fanning the fire.

This is our happy Christmastide,
the music of the bells,
the quiet night,
our home.

Reddish-brown fleas jump from the fire,
my hand is itching for that delicate neck.
The room turns blue like metal being welded.
And bracelets
strangle her white wrists.

But no,
not really.
Her slender hands with hesitant tinkle,
two meek little lambs,
retreat now from my body.
The firmament’s extinguished.
The earth has flown away.

Allelujah,
allelujah,
I’m saved already.

Ding! Dong!
The whole town’s brass like a bell.

Ah, that youth with its pains,
the crimson world!
She wept and cried.

Ding, dong, dong!

It was an unbelievable run.
She was still on my tongue as sweet as gingerbread.
It was a white Christmas,
with black snow
falling.



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