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agonia Texte Recomandate
■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2010-07-25 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
Reed-scented morning,
and my beautiful bed is a rampaged sea, while, closeby, a pigeon coos like a lovesick Hindoo. A raga's glottal gulping is not so much the thumping of my heart, but the purple blood beating a pulp in my belly. I can feel life plunging into my belly and out again with a dahl-grinder's rhythm, the damp hands of the tabla-player disciplined and flat and slightly splayed, with the graceful thumbs poised and hollowed at each tobacco'd snuff-box. This deity is a musk-perfumed padding, a pulsation, deep inside a taut fish-skin drum. My heart struggles like a rodent caught by the back legs from an oversweet pudding; my mind is the street-vendor's rat tightrope-walking a string strung between sweetmeat stalls. Dum-tek! Dum-tek! Dum tekka-tekka-dum-tek! Pat me! pat me! pat-slap-me-o-pat-me! your flattened fingers padding at my deepest, my sweetest wells; and I can hear the grit, the dirty pollen of the sun bulging over the horizon, over the cardamom-dust-filled morning, rising like a fireball exploding over the heaving belly of the sea with her greased turmeric skin. I slide naked on your oiled skin, fat mother! Voluptuous and henna-tattooed mother life- I suck greedily on you until my hollowed cheeks are as slippery as ghee smears. I suck on you, on your beautiful obese teats! Greasy mother! my belly distends with your blue milk. Holy cow, mother! I am your beautiful son, your wayward daughter; my honeysuckle-perfumed friend is my lover, my barbarian lover is my friend, stern father life is my sniffing animal mother... Pat me! pat me! pat-slap-me-o-pat-me! with your spatula fingers on my fish-skin drum, my throbbing well-fed bovine belly pungent and rippling in waves of heat: a ruby and persimmon jelly. Fatten me up on your spiced, your rosewater pudding, ah! greasy, greedy, sweet-toothed mother life.
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