BLILKLA: THE ENGLISH VERSIONS OF "FORGOTTEN LANGUAGES"

Del libro "BLILKLA. FORGOTTEN LANGUAGES"

'BLILKLA' means "Forgotten languages" in a forgotten
language.


THERE

They open windows to nowhere:
darkness rushes onto
their naked faces.

They have faces that come from the SRINTS ("empty
                                                                           dreams")
faces that sink in their own sands,
faces without a mask,
that flutter.

They have faces
like the ocean has tides.

Hordes of faces,
storms of faces,
blowings of faces,
they have.



FLOWER'S ASPIRATIONS

And if they slept,
      the jazmines,
          the lilacs, the honeysuckles?

And if perfuming
      were
           their way of breathing
                 their way of expiring?

And if the sleeping flowers
     dreamt
         their perfumes?

And if exhaling perfume
     were the only way
         of inhaling air?

And if the lilacs
     jazmines and honeysuckles
         dreamt without sleeping?

And if all that were only
      empty signals
          useless misteries with no message?


THE KENUGAN SMILE

As wet
as silver
is the Kenugan smile.
They travel without horses
-"using an animal"
is the most obscene expression
in their language-
and without wheels.
But they are skilfull
-what am I saying!-
majestic
in the use of poles and rods.
They travel through unsual distances,
irrepresentable on a map.
Distances of seasons,
of eras,
of tides.
Poles!
The Gullas
from whom they attained them
used them to make fire.


BEYOND FINGOTT
                                            For W.G.S.

Terribly long
narrow roads
that go across squares,
burnt fields,
sleepless rains,
extint factory furnaces,
empty faces,
and too complete faces,
ravines,
rails,
small woods of white trees,
boneyards,
abandoned hospitals.
Venous roads,
traveling on their own,
at dawn,
in the after-noon,
undulating,
sunk in mist
or in darkness...
Roads that nobody crosses
or travels.
Roads that nobody knows.
Roads that march
until they stop,
lost
without solution
in
hopelessness.


THE REST

my love if undressed is desire
if desire undresses, my love
the rivers strip,
the skies peel.
my love is the button that knots,
my love.
the rest is pure destiny,
blind forces,
unending floods.


IN SEMBADRA

In Sembadra gravity clearly prevails.
It is a well known story:
a huge magnet was burried
a Cruri of years ago-
you needn't see it: the earth chaffs-
and has progressibly concentrated
more and more
in its only job.

To walk four steps is a buffalo's task
and it's not difficult, around here,
to realize why gravity
is called "grave".

Thoughts move
always uphill
and, loaded with impressions,
they can reach much more weight than bodies.

Words are lead marbles
in human's mouths
and it becomes neccessary to choose very precisely
what you're going to say.

And bodies!

And the heart,
swimming in those bodies
like aquatic anvils.


CONECTIONS

The Hindu Mahabharata was writen
during 1600 years (X b.c.-VI a.d.)

In Schmu there are languages
that only have two letters.
Their words just twinkle
or clink.


SOLILOQUIES

In those regions, not far from Baffa,
you very frequently hear soliloquies.

We've just arrived from there.
The last one we overheard,
before boarding the buss
that brought us back,
went more or less like this:

"I understand things that I'm not sure I understand,
and that, if I could be sure,
wouldn't understand how come you can be sure.
That's how I understood that I don't understand.
But, if I understood that, what is it that understands
that I do not understand?"


GOING

Somebody forgot to warn me:
my train has already left
a while ago
and I'm that stranger
siting next to the window

The wagon is half asleep
and half empty

Its such a strange train
because it makes no noise

The grapeshot of light

With a blind gaze
I start to remember myself

We were going to be
We went on being
We went on, being


KAFKA'S EYES

Darkness is alive.
Under the eyebrow bridge
both torrents
pass without blending.
They flow, a secret and the other, only mixing
river and night.


SLEEPING WORDS

I wrote to you with words that fell asleep
on water
The thickness of a slept word
over the awakened water!


THE BASIN OF THE WORLD

Its been a long time since the Shutah
lost the basin of the world.
But they produce some night
with any remains of air.
"It doesn't last too long", say
their neighbors, the Nagara.
But even the firefly they drop
in that small bunch of night,
startled,
starts twinkling.


THE MEMMI

Another lonely insect,
the Memmi,
who sleeps since he's born 'till he dies.


DUSK

The porters
drop on the stone mantle
their oilcloth bones.
In their flute-teeth
the dusk wind
blows without a thought.


VISIONS

That picture:
I still have it
in the "original water"

Your face slips
in and out
invisibility

The water's ripple
is the border
between one side and the other
of reality

Still shivering
between being and non being
your face turns up
drawn
and dissolved by the water

Your smile
has just appeared
coming out from nowhere
and made this world
delicious.