Tags: akhmatova, poems
Current Mood: thoughtful
Current Music: Niagara - La Vie Est Peut-être Belle

Tags: akhmatova, poems
Current Mood: weird
Current Music: annoying smurf TV in the living room

My mind’s unplugged. My thoughts are dark.

The rose must die cause it was plucked.

I will not cry. Tough.

You talk so much about love. I said enough.

I said don’t. Wind stopped. Snow fell.

It’s not the spell. There’re no more spells. It’s not.

It’s not because I’m sick of life.

It’s not because the things are bad.

It’s just I know too much to hope,

Too much to wait. The rose is doomed.

I said don’t. Wind stopped. Snow fell.

You said: “Olav returns when a leaf blooms.”

I said: “It won’t bloom.”

I am too tired to pretend, to talk nice.

Maybe it’s wind or maybe rain or maybe lies…

The little lies crawling in my brain. It sucks.

The little lies are very white but I am black.

It’s not because my life is bad.

It is because it’s fucked. I said don’t.

I can’t be bothered anymore and even snow won’t fall.

Because… Because it’s not the wind and not the rain,

And there’s nowhere to go anymore and I can’t go anyway.

Cause everything I loved was dark and even this is gone.

And I forgot the name of God but I don’t care anyway.

I said don’t.

I only care how and when, no more I care why.

I only stop because afraid – is There pain or any love?

I’m used to pain but no more love.

Said no more love. Just no more love…

Roses are lying true to you, the necks wrung.

Lies are the plague. Truth is the death. I made my bet.

You said: “Cover her face, mine eyes dazzle. She died young.”

I said: “Roses are blue. Roses are black. Roses are dead.”

Plucked.

 

  

 

©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn

All rights reserved

 

 

Tags: poems
Current Mood: pensive
Current Music: Orlando with Tilda Swinton on DVD

Now an intrusive voice sounds in my mind.

This voice says that I must be very strong.

And I – I really don't care any more.

It's after all fevers and nothing to bear and nothing to cherish.

Feel now death is here but nothing I fear but can it be courage?

I tranquilly know I'm finished. Maybe you will come but too late.

You'll never miss me, never try to find.

The road between my grave and home is long.

And I – I really don't care any more.

Only for mauling – a toy to spoil it means less than rubbish.

I accept my falling, no one I'm calling. My mind is too sandyish.

Oh you really weren't savage taking my life to break it.

Then you will laugh and say that it was right

Or maybe cry and say that it was wrong.

And I – I really don't care any more.

Cause life is a dream and death is a dream. Yes, only a mirage.

Cause nothing has been and nothing will be and everything's garbage.

When all my life is wreckage who cares if you will crash it?

Now most of all I hate that it is quiet.

Thoughts sound in my mind like queer songs.

And I – I really don't care any more.

There's nothing to cherish and, can it be, courage means less than rubbish.

My mind is too sandyish. It's only a mirage and everything's garbage.

But an intrusive voice sounds in my mind.

This voice says that I must be very strong.

And I – I really don't care any more.

 

 

©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn

All rights reserved

Tags: poems
Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Nine Inch Nails - Hurt

Blood is dripping from the fangs of the innocent kitten
And red eyes of the wolf are sad.
Just one step - into the mirror,
Then the Rose and the Hero and Queen Marguerite...
I am passing through the curved waters -
I don't know if I'm dying or walking,
But I'm going.
Rooms familiar but unknown,
Time is swimming across the ocean.
And I know I have to find Him
Cause He's got the Heart of the Lion -
But I know I don't want to know,
Cause He tells me the things I don't
And He says that I have to live -
Oh He wants me to feel it all -
And He says I can kill the world.
Then He gives me the Key.
And I think,
When only Shadow loves me
Someone must know the Answer.
So I'm reading the Book of Thoth
With a kitten called Behemoth -
And the lunatic moon is shining
On the windowsill of the House.
I can see Him sitting and smiling.
Bridge is swaying and then collapsing
But I don't think it really matters -
There's a room full of cheetahs and panthers
And I pierce the Heart of the Lion.
Wind surrounds
The House of Glass and stone Chimaeras
And I feel free and vast as Chaos -
My freedom's written in cast iron.
But I don't want it any more.
Someone just told me what it was,
The Name of the Rose in the Heart of the Lion.

 

 

©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn

All rights reserved

Tags: poems
Current Mood: morose
Current Music: Erasure - A Long Goodbye

Tags: akhmatova, poems
Current Music: I'll Never Fall In Love Again - Andy Bell

The roses are yellow and sorrows are honey.
I maybe fell down, down all sadness
But there is in sadness something spellbinding
And there is in sadness something forgotten
When sounds are dropping in bottomless silence
And drops are so tiny.
But mistletoe’s white and roses are yellow.
How long will I listen to rains in abidance?
But it’s an agreement and it is willing –
Because Balder is dead so Freja is weeping,
And it is time for rain and grieving
So rain is crying diamond tears,
But is it the reason? Or maybe isn’t,
Or maybe the reason’s that roses are yellow
And sorrows are honey.
So I will stay here.
The morning’s cool, the bench is marble,
Leaves sickly green in summer blooming.
That dreamy castle… may be ruined,
And mists are thick in moorland valleys,
And rain is crying diamond tears.
I got strange love for queer colours,
It is not real, I’m not real;
It’s so much easier to bear
When blood is rain and heart’s washed out.
But headache’s here
And rain is crying diamond tears;
A cloud of pain is there I stood,
So pain is precious and deep.
But why – you never understood it.
I know I’m crying, rain is crying
And sad green haired Regentrude, -
Don’t try, you don’t know what it means.
Don’t stop, I think I’d like to lose you.
The roses are yellow and pain is green,
Sorrows are honey.
Maybe I should’ve lost myself,
It’s so spellbinding.
But rain is crying diamond tears and I forget it,
I’ll stay with rains, for ever cooled in dreams of sadness.
The mist is thick, the grief is deep, sorrows are honey.
But never rain dissolves the pain
And sharp the thorns of Viscum Album.

©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn
All rights reserved

Tags: poems
Current Mood: awake
Current Music: Linda - Krug Ot Ruki

I’m dreaming that both of us dead.
We’re lying – so peaceful for ever.
Two white heavy coffins of lead
Put down together.
And when did we say that “enough”?
What for then and what means the trying?
But strange that’s not aching my heart,
My heart is not crying.
The powerless feelings so morbid,
The motionless thoughts so unearthly.
And lips of yours are not enthralling
Though ever so perfect.
It happened and both of us dead.
We’re lying – so peaceful for ever.
Two white heavy coffins of lead
Put down together.


©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn
All rights reserved

After Gumilev but play of words is purely mine.

Tags: gumilev, poems
Current Mood: tired
Current Music: Piano Song - Erasure

*rant*

Still not feeling too great. First it was gum infection, then kidney, then heart (presumably telling me to cut down on antibiotics), then gum infection again. I had an ambulance out twice and 9 courses of antibiotics in 2 months - one would've thought germs should get discouraged from trying by now. I've been working most of this time too. Maybe I should start taking something stronger, like strychnine.

*rant over*

The garden weaves a glitter spell
Locked in the icy hold.
The one who left me will repent
But there’s no return.

Face of the sun, pallid and dim –
Only a gaping hole;
I know secretly whose twin
Sat next to it so long.

Here my peace is always laced
With sense of coming grief,
Through film of ice still can be traced
Your yesterday’s footprints.

The bleary lifeless sun inclines
To silent sleep of earth,
And dying down keening cries
Of late departing birds.


©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn
All rights reserved

After Akhmatova

Tags: akhmatova, poems
Current Location: bed
Current Mood: lousy
Current Music: none - have to get up at 6 and should be asleep by now

For the date appointed nowhere
I’ll be late and perhaps a stranger.
Spring will yield to autumn somewhere –
Should’ve thought so high it arranging.
Years will go but won’t change the feeling –
Loves Ophelia bitter blossoms –
Go through rocks and canyons – misleading,
Go through souls and hands – forgotten.
It takes long to live through the never.
Blood is world. Each drop is the ocean.
Bitter herbs by the stream forever
Guard Ophelia’s final portion.
Her who passion tasted but only
Algae swallowed. Haystack on gravel.
I loved you. It was high and poignant.
Then I buried you in deep heaven.


©Copyright Brighid Rhaynn
All rights reserved

A loose translation of Tsvetaeva.

Tags: poems, tsvetaeva
Current Mood: listless
Current Music: Blaze Of Glory - Jon Bon Jovi