Čaute🙂po dlhšej pauze som tu zas, pretože ma opäť chytilo písanie...nedávno som našla v svojom zápisníku nejaké staršie básne a rozhodla som sa, že ich sem pridám, pričom som niektoré máličko upravila. Sú možno trochu depresívneho charakteru (neľakajte sa :)), pretože neboli napísané práve v najlepšom období môjho života - hoci by som povedala, že patria medzi tie najviac prepracované. Tak vám prajem to najpríjemnejšie čítanie, aké sa len pri čítaní takýchto druhov básni dá :)
I want to write in English
I want to perform by words
I want to create the whole universe just from my mind, my pen and my imagination.
The whole nation
rising from my paper and marching away.
Where did they go? They are on their way
to people's minds and hearts
and they carry on my small hope that I will get what I desire.
What is it? It's not fame,
I don''t like it. Neither money, they still use to go away.
It's LOVE. And UNDERSTANDING.
It's understatement that I'm not just rude person they believe,
but I also have heart and want to live.
My hope that they'll like my universe has fallen
like the old ruins of town in war
and my army must've stollen
the will that they stil deserve to carry on
my thoughts
that I haven't stopped to put on paper
but there are no people 'round me.
I'm just on my own
alone with my imagination and messy room, messy papers, messy life...
Should I use the knife?
Sometimes I want to kill me, my blood'll be running down on these lines
so I can live a thousand lives
of people I only imagined.
But they gave me more than actual living mankind on the Earth.
My complaining isn't worth
it.
Goodbye.
