Read Online If There is Something to Desire by Vera Pavlova - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vera Pavlova
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is not afraid
to dance the agony alone,
for I was born wearing your shirt,
will come from the dead with that shirt on.
43
Multiplying in a column M by F
do we get one or two as a result?
May the body stay glued to the soul,
may the soul fear the body.
Do I ask too much? I only wish
the crucible of tenderness would melt
memories, and I would sleep, my cheek
pressed against your back, as on a motorbike …
44
The journey will be long.
Let us lie down, old friend.
First loves come by the dozen,
the last love is but one.
May the summer last
as a prison term
of farewell delights,
caresses on the doorstep.
45
We are rich: we have nothing to lose.
We are old: we have nowhere to rush.
We shall fluff the pillows of the past,
poke the embers of the days to come,
talk about what means the most
as the indolent daylight fades;
we shall lay to rest our undying dead:
I shall bury you, you will bury me.
46
When the very last grief
deadens all our pain,
I will follow you there
on the very next train,
not because I lack strength
to ponder the end result,
but maybe you forgot to bring
pills, a necktie, razor blades …
47
Should not regard, but I do:
a beggar rummaging in the dump,
two gays smooching on the bench,
a wino with blood on his shirt,
the drooping penis of an old man waiting for a trickle …
Should not regard. But I do.
48
Love, a Sisyphus laboring
to silence anxieties.
Let me wear your last name,
I promise not to soil it.
Not for the sake of decency,
not for any fringe benefits,
but to be more graceful and prettier
on holidays, at balls, going out.
49
Any housecoat would do,
but the seamstress cuts
the wedding gown
out of sea foam.
Come, undo my braid.
No sister’s foot can fit
Cinderella’s sandals
of cinders made.
50
I have brushed my teeth.
This day and I are even.
51
A Draft of a Marriage Contract
… if necessary, the books shall be divided as follows:
you get the odd, I get the even pages;
“the books” are understood to mean the ones we used to read aloud
together, when we would interrupt our reading for a kiss,
and would get back to the book after half an hour …
52
A weight on my back,
a light in my womb.
Stay longer in me,
take root.
When you are on top of me,
I feel triumphant and proud,
as if I were carrying you
out of a city under siege.
53
Armpits smell of linden blossom,
lilacs give a whiff of ink.
If we could only wage lovemaking
all day long without end,
love so detailed and elastic
that when nightfall came,
we would exchange each other
like prisoners of war, five times, no less!
54
Man to woman is homeland.
Woman to man is a way.
How much way have you covered!
Dear, get some rest:
here is a chest, lean your head;
here is a heart, camp out;
and we shall evenly share
the dry residue of griefs.
55
Memory keeps nothing unnecessary
or superfluous.
How much of your past
am I still to go through?
Taking dreams for memories,
I stroke the sleeper’s head.
A secret poll. The future
comes in last.
56
Envy not singers and mimes,
do not ravish the ailing words.
The adjective
beloved
embraces all other adjectives,
verbs, nouns,
pronouns …
Poor Logos, naked and starved,
pining in admiration!
57
Inseparable: the parrot and its mirror,
Narcissus and his stream.
Here, I have made duplicate keys
to Eden, had the white dress altered.
Inseparable: Robinson Crusoe and Friday,
the dots in the umlaut,
me and you, my Sunday.
58
The serenade of a car siren
under a window gone dark.
Anything but betrayal!
Let us stop ears with wax,
tie the daredevil to the woman
as to a mast … The sleep,
restless and moist.
The arm goes numb.
59
Writing down verses, I got
a paper cut on my palm.
The cut extended my life line
by nearly one-fourth.
60
Teeth dull, veins collapsed,
heels worn down.
We are young as long as
our parents are young.
Dry is the riverbed where milk and
to dance the agony alone,
for I was born wearing your shirt,
will come from the dead with that shirt on.
43
Multiplying in a column M by F
do we get one or two as a result?
May the body stay glued to the soul,
may the soul fear the body.
Do I ask too much? I only wish
the crucible of tenderness would melt
memories, and I would sleep, my cheek
pressed against your back, as on a motorbike …
44
The journey will be long.
Let us lie down, old friend.
First loves come by the dozen,
the last love is but one.
May the summer last
as a prison term
of farewell delights,
caresses on the doorstep.
45
We are rich: we have nothing to lose.
We are old: we have nowhere to rush.
We shall fluff the pillows of the past,
poke the embers of the days to come,
talk about what means the most
as the indolent daylight fades;
we shall lay to rest our undying dead:
I shall bury you, you will bury me.
46
When the very last grief
deadens all our pain,
I will follow you there
on the very next train,
not because I lack strength
to ponder the end result,
but maybe you forgot to bring
pills, a necktie, razor blades …
47
Should not regard, but I do:
a beggar rummaging in the dump,
two gays smooching on the bench,
a wino with blood on his shirt,
the drooping penis of an old man waiting for a trickle …
Should not regard. But I do.
48
Love, a Sisyphus laboring
to silence anxieties.
Let me wear your last name,
I promise not to soil it.
Not for the sake of decency,
not for any fringe benefits,
but to be more graceful and prettier
on holidays, at balls, going out.
49
Any housecoat would do,
but the seamstress cuts
the wedding gown
out of sea foam.
Come, undo my braid.
No sister’s foot can fit
Cinderella’s sandals
of cinders made.
50
I have brushed my teeth.
This day and I are even.
51
A Draft of a Marriage Contract
… if necessary, the books shall be divided as follows:
you get the odd, I get the even pages;
“the books” are understood to mean the ones we used to read aloud
together, when we would interrupt our reading for a kiss,
and would get back to the book after half an hour …
52
A weight on my back,
a light in my womb.
Stay longer in me,
take root.
When you are on top of me,
I feel triumphant and proud,
as if I were carrying you
out of a city under siege.
53
Armpits smell of linden blossom,
lilacs give a whiff of ink.
If we could only wage lovemaking
all day long without end,
love so detailed and elastic
that when nightfall came,
we would exchange each other
like prisoners of war, five times, no less!
54
Man to woman is homeland.
Woman to man is a way.
How much way have you covered!
Dear, get some rest:
here is a chest, lean your head;
here is a heart, camp out;
and we shall evenly share
the dry residue of griefs.
55
Memory keeps nothing unnecessary
or superfluous.
How much of your past
am I still to go through?
Taking dreams for memories,
I stroke the sleeper’s head.
A secret poll. The future
comes in last.
56
Envy not singers and mimes,
do not ravish the ailing words.
The adjective
beloved
embraces all other adjectives,
verbs, nouns,
pronouns …
Poor Logos, naked and starved,
pining in admiration!
57
Inseparable: the parrot and its mirror,
Narcissus and his stream.
Here, I have made duplicate keys
to Eden, had the white dress altered.
Inseparable: Robinson Crusoe and Friday,
the dots in the umlaut,
me and you, my Sunday.
58
The serenade of a car siren
under a window gone dark.
Anything but betrayal!
Let us stop ears with wax,
tie the daredevil to the woman
as to a mast … The sleep,
restless and moist.
The arm goes numb.
59
Writing down verses, I got
a paper cut on my palm.
The cut extended my life line
by nearly one-fourth.
60
Teeth dull, veins collapsed,
heels worn down.
We are young as long as
our parents are young.
Dry is the riverbed where milk and
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