The Dazzle of Sunrise

Nescience may be sweet, as in its relief from responsibility or involvement, and yet innocence may still subject one to suffering the consequences of events without being their originator. Its way is of the easiest: If chosen, it feels or appears peaceful, free of mental disturbance or any urge to act upon the unknown or unpercieved; if unwanted, it will cause disquiet while leading understanding to its dead-end. Truth-seeking is not for gentle spirits: It leads beneath the surface, through it all, right, to the core and takes courage to meet with a possibility of dreams getting frustrated, since what was once discovered and revealed can hardly escape your notice any more. The most fundamental part of any discovery is its acceptance, for without it, nought more than a shadow of enlightenment is percievable, this only deepening confusion and illusion for that matter. The bare factual reality, without sugar-coating or demonization, the distinct moment of looking truth right in the eyes is of essence here. While one's perception of reality is accurate in the sense of getting impressed by the external world internally, it is bound to be subjective as seen through specific eyes and filtered through a certain level of awareness and life experience and riverie, decievable by a mere semblance of actuality. It is as if all in the outside was the embodiment of either love or fear in one's mind's eye, enlivened and transformed depending on the energy thus emanated and recieved, thus forming a distinct image of the world. One may feel hopeless when swallowed by the dark or find solace in anticipating the light of another dawn. All that I fear will keep haunting me and all that I dream of will be constantly slipping away, but if I stand still and refrain from forcing anything into being according to my wishes, not in the sense of passivity or defeatism, for I shall put my heart into the realization of my dreams giving it my all, getting prepared for sure, but in the sense of letting it go eventually, surrendering the result to a higher power that exceeds me and all in existence, for the Universe favors vaillant hearts, being the energy of creation and loving-kindness, then even if armed with visions only, imagining myself in the midst of my destination, it is granted that I shall get there one day.. 🌞

The Dazzle of Sunrise @ Ladanseuse

Based on an English-written musing dated 29. 11. 2005, elaborated, edited and published on 27. 1. 2026

The Beacon in a Storm

Propius than propinquity may distance be
if the untouchable is within reach;
what anguish it is gazing into stony eyes,
touching the dead cold of souls departed;
the heart of yours may be most closely tied to that which it lets go,
which shines within like a gem, and yet it is the wind of vast plains.

A time that passess changelessly
once feels snail-paced,
then whizzes by like a hurricane;
in the lure of humming sea waves
you dip your hands in sandy dunes,
caressed by a zephyr and kissed by sunrays
wishing for it to stand still for eternity.

Distant travels return you to yourself at times,
at home yours is strangeness and strangeness is yours,
in the tears of yours dwells a smile sweet like strawberries;
smooth is the texture of your velvety skin,
through your aura rose petals descend,
singing the ode of a lost child self-discovered in an embrace.

Behold a miracle-filled life,
its glitter, scent intoxicant,
longing to live it stings and burns and aches;
you yearn to enliven your deepest dreams,
rise out of dust like a Phoenix,
never give up despite bloody wounds,
even aflame open your heart to it.

Even a temple that stands reaching to the empyrean
is a vision notionally-conceived,
stone to stone in an eternal interlink
the storm shall pass with a beacon shining into the nightly darkness
in the safety of the warmth within its walls,
and how much time and effort is needed for it to be erected?

The Beacon in a Storm @ Ladanseuse
English translation of Maják v bouři
Undated groundwork, expanded upon, edited and published on 26. 1. 2026

Flame of the Night

 Mother is my earth whence I grow and branch up to the skies like a tree,
my hair merging into radicles drinking from a wavy depth;
fate is reflected in the sheen of pebbles on the palm,
in echoes of my soul whisper I live:

Always seek light in the darkness, ignite it to illuminate her, via a tiny flame ward off the night,
for it is your beating heart, the warming ardour of undying love, the pivot of life and man;
nurture your peace amid a storm whooshing by,
for only so you can step onto a boulder in a flowing river without getting swept by a raging torrent
and discover the inner sage to guide you through life.

Aureate lava erupts from her eyes by a glittery luna of the night,
in a tangle of ringlets it sneaks into the shadows,
traces in the book of life has ignited
and her flare of energy emits from within.

Star dust descends from above in the rustle of leaves,
the solar disc gleams through arboreal crowns
where the moss feels soft as my body sleeps
and my soul dreams expanding up to the clouds.

Flame of the night @ Ladanseuse
English translation of Plamínek noci
Collected from snippets of my own thoughts and fantastic visions, published on 21. 1. 2026

Snowy Ruby

A six-pointed flake has descended
from the heavens onto my palm
to caress a pure lamb soul
and coelesced
at the tip of a sapling into a glittery glint of a star
by the scent of a sweet braided bread
in misty traces in snowdrifts left;
beneath the ice, bubbles have reached for the light,
a fish eye has glistened and a slippery carp has gasped for breath
in the depth of mulled ruby wine.

Snowy Ruby @ Ladanseuse
English translation of Sněžný rubín
Liter Art 14. 11. 2024: sweet bread, carp, flake, sapling, mulled wine
Editing on 20. 1. 2026, publication antedated 24. 12. 2025

Myriads of a Labyrinthine Immensity

 The mind's like a beehive,
Niagara Falls are thrumin',
waves are overflowin' in bleeding colorful impressions,
thousands of lines are crossed in the dimensional expansion
of a formless directionlessness.

Strands of infinity seep into the black,
the silvery glitter of tangled threads, 
stompy impulses, light flashovers...
clouds are whizzin' by in the wavy sky of van Gogh's psychedelia,
time's merged into a single immeasurable mo.

A boundless flow, traces vanished
in myriads of links;
paths from nowhere to nowhere, a broken circle in glass shards,
shots in whichever directions, a blasting energy, focus in distraction;
once here, once there – once everywhere, yet nowhere.

A shoreless stream of consciousness that's sweepin' me along
and so makin' me lost in it,
lost to myself, lost to the world,
drowned in the depths of my soul, on the brink of jumping off a cliff,
all's passing by me in the bottomlessness of my inner deep.

I'm in there, thus not here;
I'm inside, thus not outside...
in one moment I'm 
h.e.r.e, you see me,
but then I drift away into myself.

Myriads of a Labyrinthine Immensity © Ladanseuse
English translation of Myriády labyrintní nesmírnosti dated 31. 10. 2025, 
both published on 24. 11. 2024

The Fount of Fantasts

Lass, kneeling by the spring of life,
which pours into a shoreless water expanse,
has beheld its transcience in her mirroring,
whence ire over it has aroused.

On the site of olden necropolises
she could no longer live without cause,
give herself to a mere existence,
with dolor in her heart for all that's within reach,
and yet unreachable to her.

With no faith in "take what you can"
but in the perpetuity of ideas, the magic concretized in the miracle of life;
there's yet another "carpe diem", a dream come alive,
the consciousness of which she's always carried deep inside!

Precious moments in multitudes have surely fled from her,
washed away with tears into the murky waters of a lake,
while she, fully present in others, would
from their golden glitter
raise her inner sanctum of bliss.

The Fount of Fantasts © Ladanseuse
English translation of "Zřídlo snivců" dated 30. 10. 2025,
based on an undated Czech prozaic prose poetized, named, and published on 25. 10. 2025

The Radix

 A question is raised of what the essence is whence 
threads lead further to weave the web of my existence.
I'm a deep, a vast dancing in the waves –
where are the shores of hers?

A flicker turned into flames...

Out of wonder at what the merits are
of going back so far in time,
amid the craze of 'the here-and-now' 'n' 'the discard-of-the-redundant',
a truth has sprung up:
The roots are there – here is but 
a tangle of branches...
whence does this all-embracing feeling arise?

Thus, in order to comprehend the here, one must 
go there–to the source, the radicles, the inception–
'n' seek out the links, connectivity,
songs of one's inner child,
uncovering a primal wellspring of the undercurrent of one's life.

Days of yore yearn for a remedy and inclusion
lest they linger on as an infliction,
for all our life is contained within 'em,
and yet they go, "Forget it!"
Where's the wisdom carried within then? – Discarded!

That's, we need a firm footing so as to stand up and take wing.

Made up is the division of time, all's intertwined:

It's an endlessly flowing river, wavelet by wavelet, the esse of our being,

and still they maintain that the one 'n' only ripple is It,

but each 'n' every one of 'em composes the stream 

as they all in myriads interflow diffusing rappidly...

The Radix © Ladanseuse 

An originally unnamed Czech-English prose turned poesy of 24. 1. 2025, 

 in Czech "Kořen" published on 15. 10. 25,

this English rendition published on 14. 10. 2025

Whole-becoming

 I'm assembling shards of the serene and felicitous of a shattered glass,
the inner river of ache and melancholia is fed by many an influx;
it's like obtaining nourishment that'll not appease the famine of my heart,
longing to procure a cure for my soul's agony in a wavy dance's expansion;
if only the grievous would perish and the auspicious live –
if I knew, would I be shedding my tears?

I am an alchemist of dreams, you see,
the dark into light transmogrified would be my desire,
and yet, I might close my eyes,
let the night be a night, lost in reverie 'n'...
awakened in the morn's embrace.

If the other's like no other,
the tale of dew ray-lit at dawn can be told;
whatever I carry within, 
the other half mayn't make me weep but bring me laughter.

To such a one give my heart
who is here for me constantly,
not wishing to lose me,
aiding me in my flight up in the sky,
for fancying me overly like I do him or her.

Give my all to such a one only
who gives growth to love,
who leaves behind the smile of a beating heart
'n' the warmth of a hug that won't let go once given,
having left traces of a creator in the infinity of time on Earth.

Whole-becoming © Ladanseuse
English translation of Zcelistvění dated 11. 10. 2025,
based on the Czech concept published on 10. 10. 2025.

The Eternal Now

 On the claim of the "eternal now" as the only existing time, as opposed to the past or the future, I opine:

True: The past is gone and the future is yet to be, so the only living‒and malleable‒time is contained within the present. And yet, what was, is; what is, will be. The present is (was) built upon the past and the future is (being) built upon the present. What was has led here and here is whence what follows stems. Each moment, however alive, passes quickly, merging with the past, a time that once was and used to be the "now". What is now is a remnant of what was and a vision of what will be. Yesterday is a now in retrospect, tomorrow is a now in prospect. Thus, the now is not only now ‒ spanning over past and future times in constant parallels, the only time known to man to be alive, it lies in eternity. 

The Eternal Now © Ladanseuse

English concept dated 25. 7. 2022, edited & published on 25. 7. 2024

A New Dawn over the River of Life

 Each new daybreak brings the gift of a fresh start, yet another chance. It is the Universe lending its generous hand; an extra long glittery string of starlets, carefully threaded. You owe so much to Higher Wisdom; it leads you and comforts you.

Life flows like a river, never to stop, even if you get stuck on one spot. Follow life, give in to the rhythm of infinity, let drum beats make your heart dance. Life is to be fulfilled for as long as it is, as long as you are, as long as it can. The river is to be kept alive, not let it dry out, realize your dreams. To protect your inner river, fight for it, use its life-giving source and become Mother, give life to your brain children!!! 

Such is a conception arising out of your womb: an inner cry that has been heard out; a longing that has seen the light of day; a materialized dream.

The past has been swallowed by the dark, with the sun comes a rebirth.

🌞🌺🌹🌸🌊

A New Dawn over the River of Life © Ladanseuse

English translation of Nový úsvit nad řekou života dated 23. 7. 2024,

based on the Czech concept dated 24. 3. 2023, both published on 24. 3. 2024

The Glitter of Cosmic Boroughs

In the garth stands high a gem of a majestic plum,
a carpet of violets has ascended to the skies
and fused itself into psychedelic stars;
the giant constellation of Canis Major has effloresced through the dark,
from behind shrouds has emerged a winged angel,
a duckling ruffling her plumes;
crimson Luna has perfused into a love-apple
with a glittery tail of cosmic boroughs.

The Glitter of Cosmic Boroughs © Ladanseuse
English translation of Třpyt vesmírních měst dated 21. 7. 2024, based on the Czech concept writ. during Liter Art on 23. 5. 2024 using [transl.] tomato (love-apple), duckling, dog, plum, lecho; published on 21. 7. 2024

Glowing Sahara

 In the still of infinity glows Sahara, lying bare, 
the wind blows in her, disheveling strands of her hair;
mills of God grind slowly but surely;
Luna has surfaced, surfing on duny waves, like an alchemyst,
in her flare, love's embrace, dream-filled heart quakes
Lady Night has spread out her astral canvas.

Glowing Sahara © Ladanseuse
English translation of  Žhnoucí Sahara dated 18. 7. 2024,
based on the Czech concept writ. during Liter Art using given words [transl.] Sahara, the still, Luna, mill, love, edited & published on 18. 7. 2024

In a Lunar Womb

My heart's tears in rainfall
bespatter a gelid stone;
my life, the inner I, dreams of mine
are in existence, having weight –
why waste 'em
on the one
of a cloudy visage,
in whose core rages a storm,
flashing dagger-like lightnings;
whose heart, turned to a rock out of spite, slumbers,
even unalive in its non-love toward me,
and won't caress, devoid of gentleness?!

Tick tack...
hours pass,
the time of my life is wild in flight
even if I...
stuck in place, spinning circularly, going backward,
a starry-eyed soul on a pilgrimage enshrouded in the dark,
unaware:
What's the direction of my steps?
Where's an embrace in hopelessness?
Which soil to plant my love in for its growth into flowers?

To lift the veil of darkness
– I wish –
to rest enveloped in a shine, intertwined with rays of light, dwelling in a womb of glow;
to feel a touch of kindliness, the peace of serenity, a gleam of happiness...
to live
my dreams
in love
with reality.

In a Lunar Womb © Ladanseuse

English translation of V lůně luny, dated 15. 7. 2024, 

based on the Czech concept written during AM at RM's on 11. 4. 2024, edited & published on 4. 7. 2024

Note: Womb (lůno) as "uterus", or "a motherly life", fig. "heart"; Luna, the pale blue shining Moon, here in the sense of "shine", "light", "ray"

The Bosom's Blossom

I feel amour

if in my vicinity 

my kindred floweret has being. 

Permeating her emeraldom,

to the grove of scapes and foliage I withdraw,

into those dreamscape shapes I metamorphose;

supping aqua along with her,

my hands outstretched to the heavens,

I expand into space.

I espy shadows flickering around her,

her silvery gleams;

there is a sense of her breathing inaudibly,

filling a void by her own Self...

Existing quietly,

 I sing and dream;

with not a word on my tongue, 

I hold the heart of a flower in my arms.

The Bosom's Blossom © Ladanseuse

English translation of Srdéčka květ dated 2. 7. 2024,

based on the Czech concept at V kůži Roselyne (In Roselyne's skin) workshop with Cécile da Costa in Ponec Theater on 23. 3. 2024,

edited & published on 2. 7. 2024

The Dream That Came to Life

A fenestella comes open wide,
a surreal field of infinity
unfolds before my sight;
through it, I slip outside
to peregrinate over a wide plain...

Lo, a river! Meandering ahead of me, it allures;
my inner voice speaks up, urging me:
Walk alongside it!
Thou behold? The remote glow – follow it!

And so I undulate, flow with the river
wherever it carries me,
here and there, I hit a crag,
I disperse in fluidity in all possible directions –
'till these advances poured into a confluence remain in union...

In peace do I bide,
in sunshine am I drowned,
like a girlie in a craddle lulled,
 rocked on the wavelets of a foamy calm.

The grail is near at hand,
glistering in my palms like a gem,
so now I can fall into a placid slumber
and dream...
the dream that's come to life!

The Dream That Came to Life © Ladanseuse
English translation of "Sen, jenž stal se životem" dated 3. 6. 2024,
based on the Czech concept written during AM at RM's on 14. 3. 2024, edited & published on 2. 6. 2024

The Heart's Wistful Cry

Those crying eyes of mine,
shedding tears of the heart:
Am I a hopeful as a pilgrim to starshine,
to the fervour of the sun,
to a sphere permeated with scents
wherein balm is my lullaby?

Caught in a circle under a spell:
Whereto my steps shall I take: perhaps over here, therein, out there?
I beg the Universe
to reveal to me
that which is out of sight,
the brightness of daylight.

Time passes by like a river's flow,
the current of lament, the sea of woe,
for I'm in quest – quest – quest of
the dream of renascence in fruition,
the dimension of calm,
a fortunate outcome.

The Heart's Wistful Cry © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Teskná mantra srdce" dated 30. 5. 2024,

based on the Czech concept writ. during AM at RM's on 24. 11. 2023, edited & published on 30. 5. 2024

Inner depths

I am within, 

trembling, having gotten in,
the heart which expands, glows and shines;
with my hair like radicles,
intertwined in the Earth's nucleus,
curled up in a ball of wool,
I withdraw into a sanctum.

Via feel  'n' warmth,

bewildered, I transmogrify

into an expansive twine

in the merge of twin lines.

My heart,

a gift I give,

in palms conjoined;

in a whirly chafe

I am outstretched;

in unity

warmness ignites.

Like a planet

I spin round the Sun

in the orbit of conjunction;

feeling dizzy,

in the unknown

I find myself, caught unawares.

Deep

therein

my domicile I identify;

from within 

opening wide,

my kindred spirit

I carry inside,

caressing it inwardly.

Inner Depths © Ladanseuse
English translation of Niterné hlubiny dated 26. 5. 2024,
based on the Czech concept written on 9.11.23 & published on 9. 5. 2024

The Glow of My Soul

In one spot do I abide,
unaware of where a path of mine is to be found;
in my way a wall of silence stands...
with the scales unbalanced,
I long for a dreamlike harmony.

I unite my heart with Universum
so as to weld the disconnected,
so as star dust rises to form one loop;
gravitating toward a luminous aureole,
I thrust my soul into the arms of a glow.

Conceived by the feeling of interconnectedness,
the circulation of annular infinity, I am;
in a warming bath
my heart expands,
my heart is filled.

My soul,
in a bond of lights,
ablaze,
it glows.

The Glow of My Soul  © Ladanseuse
English translation of Záře duše mé dated 8. 5.2024,
based on the Czech concept, writ. during Authentic Movement at R. M.'s on 2. 11. 2023, edited on 5. 5. 2024 & published on 6. 5. 2024

The Platan

 Almighty gardian of Infinity,
you have rooted me in the reality of worlds;
connected with the Earth, I am outreaching towards the heavens,
with my arms outstretched to Entirety;
touching my dreams,
I evanesce into thaumaturgic dimensions.

The Platan © Ladanseuse
English translation of "Platan" dated 20. 11. 2023,
based on the Czech concept of 5. 10. 2023, writ. during Authentic Movement at R. M.'s, edited & published on 19. 11. 2023

Wayfeeling

As I traipse through the landscape of the Uknown,
feeling my way, not knowing where to go,
I am weighing my steps with care,
shivering with disquiet.

Whoever, whatever it is that is blocking my path,
there is a sense of cold, a sense of warmth;
contours are vanishing, noisy echoes filling the space.

I have been surrounded
by the expanse of Endlessness,
an expanse unbounded.

Fleeing is a touch;
my body has gone missing
and my soul has merged with Immensity.

Wayfinding © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Tápání" dated 19. 11. 2023,
based on the Czech concept, dated 21. 9. 2023, writ. during Authentic Movement at R. M.'s, edited and published on 17. 11. 2023

This Naked Lullaby

Aerated by a loving breath I am,–
feeling my soles rested upon a cushiony moss,
my soma afloat in a void,
a caressing, slightly cooling touch.

In your palms' bassinet my skin is being laid;
enclasped in safety I wish to dwell,
deliquesce in Immensity,
forever feeling Acceptance.

My heart
with melody resounds,
my soul
with peace is inspired.

Swaying
is
this naked lullaby.

This Naked Lullaby © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Ukolébavka nahá" dated 15. 11. 2023,

based on the Czecch concept of 31. 5. 2023, writ. Tělesnění at R. M.'s,

edited, published on 15. 11. 2023

Constant

 Home is found

where my heart pounds;

and all that's settled in my bosom

is at home.

💓

Albeit in an altered attire,

even with a change of scenery,

or if the sea of time passes by,

the same heart throbs at the core.

💓

The eternal essence in a changeable form,

wine will be wine,

be it in this or that flagon,

retaining its sweetness.

🍷

Constant © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Konstanta"

Amber Butterfly

 I'm not a butterfly emerged from its chrysalis,

but a Monarch ensnared in amber resin;

a butterfly that's to have spread its wings,

risen up to the welkin longingly,

but got lodged in a golden dream.

🌞

Laid to rest eternally in a warming womb,

it tastes like honey, soft to touch it is,

turned to tinder by a spark easily,

eternalized in its beauty,

with its wings concealed.

🌞

Captive to amber,

like a stone within a stone,

in a motionless slumber

lies a tiny butterflied form,

its spirit

permeated by eternity,

dwelling in luminosity.

🌞

A flutter of butterfly wings

in flickering flashes of light

through the smoothness of glassy facets

is seen by the one

who's a fate-stricken star-gazer

with metamorphic visions.

🌞

Amber Butterfly © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Jantarový motýl" dated 23. 1. 2023, 

based on the Czech concept of 1. 11. 2O22 finalized on 23. 1. 2023

Gushes of Tears from Your Deep

 A breeze – you are – my face is fanned by;

a high tide – which off my footsteps wipe;

a plume – tickling me in my palm;

a foam – gently caressing my soul;

the voice of yours – murmuring – charms.

Here – you are – my second half – close to touch;

breath – rushed from your lungs – has enveloped me mistily;

the sapphire – of your eyes – has fluidly penetrated me;

my bosom – by peace of your heart – has been swollen

in the ardent embrace of the sun.

An ocean – you are – quietly on the flow,

engulfing – my whole being – in emotion

and then – submerged in waves – the ocean ebbs far off,

beyond reach – not a drop to be hold of.

The open arms – of a tranquil lake – I dream of,

to go down – below its waterline,

getting drunk with tenderness, getting drowned in love,

only – to dwell – in your depth.

Gushes – of tears – from your deep

only – do I aspire – to wipe dry,

drowning – I am – your solid ground.

Gushes of Tears from Your Deep © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Slzy prýštící z hlubiny Tvé", dated 25. 4. 2022, edited on 17. 1. 2023

Continuum

Water, which wells up from the springs of life, is a continuum: It flows on and into the eternal ocean of time. It continuously ebbs and flows, its foamy waves washing ashore, thus influenced by the cool silvery moon, which it elementarily constitutes, just as it forms the essence of our physical Self as we are born of a watery womb and out of our heart gushes a carmine intravenous stream circulating within us and flowing out of us in sync with a lunar cycle. As if the inner was symbiotic with the outer: Both is of identical nature.

The flow of water is wavy like locks of hair as you caress them and they slip through your fingers; it undulates like mountain tops, femininely curvaceous; it spins in a whirl of chaos, voraciously devouring everything in the deeps of her eyes; efervescent, it bubbles in a velvety foam as you float in her arms; it burbles softly like a stream or rages widly like a torrent... Water is a life-giving force, water is a lady, water is life in all of Creation.

As it cleanses and washes away, water is a cathartic transformation: both on the physical plane and in the psychical sphere, it banishes evil and gifts good. As if along with monthly blood sorrow and all doom flowed out while room was given to a new seed of joy in life. Relieve yourself of that old, useless attire, immerse your body in the waters of a lake, washing off dirt and gloom; throw Morana, the winter of woe, into the river flow so as it carries it away and revives sunshine and sunheat within you; may bitter wails be washed away by the sacredness of your tears, mightfully gushing out as the heart speaks its truth through them; dance in between drops of rain, which will flush the dust away, erase footsteps, quench your thirst and cool the burning heat down.

Water is the embodiment of the adage that "what is soft is strong": with its gentleness, fluidity and pliability, it will – despite appearances – overcome rigid hardness.... or, in Keith Richard's words, "The strong guys are gentle, always. It's only weak guys that come on strong.", or, using Bruce Lee's simile, "the bamboo or willow survives by bending with the wind", whereas "the stiffest [immobile] tree is most easily cracked". Its strength lies not in aggression, but in a certain kind of a flexible persistance with which it will pulverize stone eventually. Water is stronger than ice: That "water hears and understands' renders it shapeable, welcoming and open, whereas by freezing it stiffens, becoming inflexible and unyielding, thus "ice does not forgive'. May ice melt, becoming water, as we need more humaneness, and tenderness in this world, we need to open ourselves to love.

Bruce Lee speaks of water "making its way through the cracks" that is "not assertive, but adjust[s] to the object and [thus] shall find a way around or through it'. As if our surroundings as well as ourselves were water:. "We are always in the process of becoming and nothing is fixed," and so only if devoid of inner ossification, with an empty mind, "formless [and] shapeless, like water," can we "change with the ever-changing" and "outward things will disclose themselves." His wisdom says: "Flow in the total openness of the living moment. Moving, be like water. Still, be like a mirror. Respond like an echo."

Water is one of the fundamental substances of the universe without which there is no life – birth, flow, change, catharsis, good, eternity. My relationship with her is multilayered; I love her; she is both without and within me..

Continuum © Ladanseuse

English translation of "Kontinuum"

Completed from excerpts of my own thoughts on 4.7.21, 30.10.21, 13.-14.4.22,

spiced up with quatations by Keith Richards and Bruce Lee

A Merge with Eternity

If you can
discern
whence stems a dread
of dark shadowiness 
amidst a sunlit day,
then you comprehend
why in the heart
ceaseless unease can dwell.

If you can
penetrate
the essence of life
before you deplete it completely,
then you learn
of whence we came,
the source of our fragility.

If you believe
in the existence of reliables,
then tell me
what it is supposed to be
when each moment passes.

If you say,
only that which prevails, matters –
is it in seach of a safe guarantee
that is trustworthy?
Or, your attachment to it
renders you wishful it would last for eternity?

Where find certainty?
All is at risk –
each step taken on your path
can be fatal,
but not to go on
means to reject life,
which life won't accept.

And so you know
there is no way of relinquishment
and keep this senseless battle on,
hurting as you sense it's in vain.

Certain instants
belong to silence
in the time
when retreat means your victory,
open your heart,
there exist moments 
wedded to eternity.

A Merge with Eternity © Ladanseuse
Original text undated; edited, translated into Czech, and published bilingually on 5. 4. 2022

We, Stories

This dictum 

echoes in my ears:

"In stories we will turn".

but we are these

stories that breathe!

We'd better detect 

means of their portrayal

before breathless we are,

before reminiscences we become!

We, Stories © Ladanseuse

Translation "My, příběhy" on 5.. 4. 2022

Written in Czech on 23. 12. 2021, edited & published on 2. 4. 2022

"In stories we will turn", a paraphrasis of In the end, we'll become stories" by Margaret Atwood

Love and Doom

 Upon leaving this place I knew of being awaited by a new world – a world in which I could fully perceive its beauties with my mind veiled in a sweet nescience, with my sorrow drowsing at the edge of an abyss; a world in which my senses would be inspirited by joy to dive into inner peace with a heart keen-sighted and open to all.

Observing the undulating sea, I can sense its cruel lovingness and feel its salty flavor all over my body; the sea is bitter-sweet, the deep of the endless blue, the deeps of marvels and presences. I can hear its swaying murmur, the hum of cicadas and the rustle of stone pine needles... as branches swing and oleanders open their lovely flowers to a realm of scents, sounds, and touches that awakens a wild love and affection within me.

Steep, murderous crags of the mountains loom above the azure ocean lying in their womb. A landscape with thousands of dwarf trees and bushes scattered throughout... the mountainous skyline... windowless and roofless houses with only walls left, houses with protrudent wires and bright bare bricks, houses with alabaster plaster and gleaming windows... a barren and deserted land, a plundered and desolate land, a captivating and wild land, nobody's land, a land of death that still abounds in germinating resilient life... a corner of the earth that reeks of abandonment and has permanently become home to suffering, a corner of the earth with the palpable presence of a war the menacing eyes of which have always been blind and the heart of which has invariably been insatiable... And these ruins used to be homes, which people have left or in which they have found death – who knows? This horrifying query hovers over this wasteland, brimming with wildlife but filled with human demise...

Thereupon, all turns to life... a life which dwells in little houses drowned in a flood of flowers... in tens of cafés resonant with music and utterances, food-scented locales with a tempting offer of ice-cream... on overcrowded paths and beaches of a pulsating town. And the thrum of car and motorcycle engines, the pounding beat of discotheques, the wail of the wind, the hubbub of thousands of voices, the tolling of bells, the roar of waves furiously crashing against the cliffs and murmuringly washing ashore – waves that rock in their soothing arms but that are also capable of slaying...

It is a July summer... The blazing sun is merciless, but life is rich in percepts in shadowy, watery and green places. All the trees bow to the sea in silent reverence, out of voiceless necessity – what for? –  and create an oasis of peace and a shelter from the sun; they rise upwards, the trees, so salubrious, magnificent and tranquil...

Along the sea shores there are hundreds of people lying, sitting or walking around... on the beach... under Asianesque reed sunshades in bars fringed with surfboards and perfumed with the sea, each with its own background music... in cafeterias with tens of chairs and small tables... at the stalls with popcorn, ice-cream, pictures, bijouterie, hats, bathing suits and other clothing, CDs, seashells, fruit – at the stalls with perhaps all that exists...

All these places are filled with people... and sentimental images of little houses and pensions in an inundation of blooming greenery: cacti, grapevines, fig trees, oleanders, palms, stone pines... whereas the mountains above them hide their terrifying void...

Love and Doom © Ladanseuse

Somewhere in former Yugoslavia, in a July; original edited and published on 2. 4. 2022

Translation "Láska a zkáza" on 3. 4. 2022

The Land of a Thousand Roads

 The world is like a land of a thousand roads and a thousand faces,

despite which it can be nameless and roving it aimless –

so tell me how is the Earth endowed with a face,

how do our steps leave a meaningful mark on it?

You can say, I know you world even though you are unknown...

for you need not see a road to know there is one:

The road will appear the moment you step upon it.

There is no shepherd but you,

standing before endless horizons of worlds,

and you feel that it is obscurantism to be bound and suffer silently,

and you know that beauty is formless,

pain tasteless,

thoughts boundless,

and that your empty hands are but self-deceit.

Even if the world is no bed of roses,

it is not devoid of hope – 

which unfolds in immense spheres,

wherein there is no power to demarcate them –,

that besides cesspits there exists beauty in it.

You, standing in front of a canvas with a paintbrush in your hand,

spread fanciful threads within star clusters,

and there is a sun burning in one of your palms and a moon bathing in another;

you were borne by Infinity, so you paint light like a child,

for you know that, although you will not survive it here, your creation will still prevail...

You feel that clinging to that which is from without is tying you down,

that you had better let be that which is meant to be –

that is is advisable to give space to and allow growth of that which is to grow,

and dive into your own depths...

Although you cannot avoid dark waters

or the storm that you carry within –

you cannot escape from yourself or the world itself –,

you must not extinguish the light shining far off.

Peacify yourself, knowing that

even a loss can be liberating,

the act of breaking away can be a magnet,

for that which often binds you is a conjecture –

bulwarks of the mind disquieted by immeasurability...

It is no mistake to see more,

it is no mistake to go further,

it is no mistake to delve deeper.

You stand on the threshold of a new world that is the land of a thousand roads...

and it is wise to give it a face, to give meaning to your steps in it–

or else hell is cold and cold is hell.

This is not the end of the story – it is but one closed chapter.

Nothing concludes with an ending – all is just a continuous transformation.

The Land of a Thousand Roads © Ladanseuse

English translation "Krajina tisíců cest"

Undated original edited & published on 30. 3. 2022