Starlight of the Growing Mountain

 It would be a success to me always and clearly to see the meaning of my life,
whatever it would be based upon,
and get the subsequent sense of contentment and happiness.

People can set high goals:
as if they were climbing up a mountain that is constantly growing;
as if their forest was taken by wildfire on a yearly basis;
as if each of their depictions was better than the previous one without any one ever becoming the conceptual ideal;
as if they were reaching out their hands toward dreams burning in the sun or drowned in the ocean;
as if they let their soul get lost, fly to the stars,
and escaped from the surrounding darkness into the salvation of inner light,
still being empty-handed on the outside this notwithstanding.

People want to see their star shine, not look down upon their dreams trampled upon.
People are creators: Oftentimes, they wish to create something great, palpable, and striking 
that would represent kind of a proof of their worth, that would leave a trace --
and that is their poetry of life: to fulfill a void.

And yet, it is a miracle that they are alive at all.
And yet, they paint light like children of infinity --
all despite their losses, pains and failures,
all despite their imagined quirks.
As individuals, they are a towering mountain drowned in flames of the sun.

Starlight of the Growing Mountain © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Hvězdná záře rostoucí hory", written on 20. 11. 2006, editen in 2021

Putative Delight Junkies

In your youth,
no-one has mercy on you;
you are but junkies of a delirious night,
of visions of a lost ideal,
the condemned of putative delight.

Putative Delight Junkies © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Feťáci domnělé slasti", written in 2000, edited in 2021

The Picture of Mute Defiance

NO PEACE WITH MUTENESS
he wrote on the wall glaringly blank
in the color black
with a spray in the hand
in the war of the silent
messengers and rebels,
the downtrodden and the odd,
in too loudly screaming nakedness.

The Picture of Mute Defiance © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Obraz neslyšného vzdoru", excerpted from the poem "Malíř" (Painter) of 2000, edited in 2021

If Only My Laugh Could Be Alive

If only it would come alive,
if only it could be alive,
my laugh.

And eyes that wander in the haze of the earth,
shadows on the wallpaper come alive,
inaudibly does the heart thumb from afar.

It bears traces of the past,
slumber is hosted by closed eyes
and the still engulfed
dreams of dancey visions of the mind.

A tranquil breath resounds in the peacefulness of duvets,
the Pole Star has risen from the cold of the night
in its warm shine
that watches over castaways.

In the place where beauty has spread its wings
gentle moon reigns the night;
in my presence that golden bloom appears to rise.

How severe is the fight 
with irreversibility,
love leaves even in the sleep.

Where's it gone,
the innocence of childlike love,
with the sound of steps
joyful child voices resonate.

Farewell, my concubine?

If Only My Laugh Could Be Alive © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Kdyby tak uměl žít můj smích", written in 2000, edited in 2021

On the Wings of Time

 It is waving me,
time that has spread its wings;
the night is white,
a full glass of wine;
the mind is engulfed,
yet in silence entrapped.

In the morning
the mist silently veiled traces of me;
like my dream
I disappeared
in the whiteness full of queries.
Whenever his soul sings,
peace is embracing me.

🐦
His is a warrior's heart,
unbeknown to him;
I can sense the pain
as it's weeping in secret,
as "men" do not cry aloud;
the burnt soul
wills its wounds to cool
like a running train
that is going through all stations.

🐦
In the morning
his nearness
became a labyrinth;
the day smiled;
his voice drowned in the sea.

Where has it gone,
the little flame
that he ignited in me
and that is still burning?

Why am I looking for him
when as though he was omnipresent?

On the Wings of Time © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Na křídlech času", written in 1999, edited in 2021

A Fanciful-wakeful Lass

 A fanciful-wakeful lass
with a magic star on her palm,
she's climbing up to the sky,
drowning in the rising sun
to fall down, beat the dust
and kiss the day good-bye.

She's drawing a picture of beau monde,
keeping her mind so madly strong;
she's down on her knees,
dropping her heart, so weak;
her sorrow makes her blind to see
through salty tears
that rob her eyes of joy
in the world full of jeers.

Vain are hopes, empty's damnation,-
love is her icon,
so wanted, so untold,
belonging to Heaven,
having fallen to a fragile soul,
to a tiny nook in the huge space,
as a weak ray of light in the dark,
always finding its place.

And the lass, strange to reality, is awake,
awake to her dreams.

A Fanciful-wakeful Lass © Ladanseuse
Written under the title "A Stranger to Reality" in 1999, edited in 2021

My Soul Unavowed

Water roars wickedly
in an avalanche of colloquies
that torment my soul
in silence.

My Soul Unavowed © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Duše má, zamlčená", written in 1999, edited in 2021

Close to Farness

In the vicinity of the beloved
hatred lies in the distance;
there is just one step to an abyss
in the labyrinth of a silent world.
In the company of the unsuspected
fear hides in questions;
thoughts are too lively,
faster than light.

Close to Farness © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Blízko nedohlednu", written in 1999, edited in 2021

Those Wistful Eyes

  Those eyes
that will no longer see the light,
drowned in tears,
set upon the heavens;
those eyes
downcast, fixedly,
that seek,
that wander;
those eyes
that has been loving for too long
are pining.

Those Wistful Eyes © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Ty oči unylé", written in 1999, edited in 2021

Heartbeat in the Mist

Heartbeat in the mist;
shadows are dispersing,
light is floating,
tears are murmuring.
A bitter moon of the eyes;
traces are vanishing,
silence has resounded all around.

Heartbeat in the mist,
moist palms of hands;
the soul is melting away.
Inaudible tidings
the mind is slumbering,
dreams have drowned in the night.

Heartbeat in the mist;
a muffled scream
has torn the heart into pieces.
Life in fallen leaves;
angels are listening;
writings on walls 
say, I love you.

Dreams are floating about;
another darkened street;
legs have grown heavy;
breath.

Like bell it sounds,
the heartbeat in the mist;
loudly it is crying out,
and yet softly it is treading.

Heartbeat in the Mist © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Tlukot srdce v mlze", written in 1999, edited in 2021

Body And Soul

Perusing the book of life,
they find out
a gaping gulf;
their bodies entangled,
their soul's breaking out.
Gazing downward,
they read palm lines
in which paths of their life are inscribed;
all human history's
swallowed up their past.

The moon is up in its glittery realm,
the night's veiled all in darkness,
and mist's effaced fingerprints from window panes.
And the taste of kisses and the bodily scent;
mornings that are empty, dismal, desolate;
wilted flowers;
eyes immersed in wine.

Hope is wrecked,
having submerged itself to the edge of senselessness
and vanished into pure whiteness.

Body And Soul © Ladanseuse
Transl. „Tělo a duše“, written in 1998, edited in 2021

The Beauty Between You And Me

I see you drawing near, tentative,

with the world entire in your eyes concealed,

with thoughts like a street

the walls of which with writings are filled.

And longing is like birds in crowns

within which their songs resound.

I am afraid that each time with you

was the last.

But now... 

there is nothing

—but you—

and my heart is open to you;

in your presence

pain that rends me evanesces;

there is nothing

but

You

and

I

and

Beauty. 

The Beauty Between You And Me © Ladanseuse

Transl. „Krása mezi námi“, written in 1998, edited in 2021

An Apparitional Guest

Time and again Time plunges into Night's arms;
I see him every time I close my eyes.

Heavens shed tears of rainy cold;
in the purity of void, in the abyss of dark
memories are born.

Pain
creeps in, parts of my life thievin';
without him, solitariness
is part hope, part hopelessness.

Sleepy Morn
puts to flight remants of Night
that is both my foe
and a blessing in disguise.

He lingers here with me while nobody knows;
I open my eyes just to find out he is not here at all.

An Apparitional Guest © Ladanseuse
Transl. „Přízračný host“, written in 1998, edited in 2021

Angels of Fallen Dreams

Why tread upon love, upon joy
and leave behind but snowfall?
And what about silent angels
seeking their dreams cast-off?
They read, desperately whispering,
in thoughts of days long gone.

There are books, open,
and yet filled with mystery
hidden in all those spots empty,
which cannot be read without comprehension.

Who hears the weeping of unsung beauty despite laughter?

Angels of Fallen Dreams © Ladanseuse
Transl. „Andělé padlých snů“, written in 1998, edited in 2021

In Soul's Tongue

 I don't mind its being put imperfectly –

I want to play with it,– enlivening, realizing, liberating it...

This is to share moments of a symmetry or harmony

that springs from the depths of the soul to reveal itself,

creating a bond with the outside world

through streams of unconsciousness

that is now palpably real.

In Soul's Tongue © Ladanseuse

Secret Enchantment

 The existence of certain phenomena
has no explanation,
and yet they are...
like intangible magic
floating in the ether like a beauty 
that will reveal itself
to the most vigorous seeker only.

Secret Enchantment © Ladanseuse

Gone Astray

 As if I roamed on the path of oblivion,
stuck as the world passes away,
like a fool dreaming in the rain
of salvation and condemnation,
chained by pride which is self-humbleness,
asking whether silence is a question 
or the answer 
to what my heart is unaware of.

No muddled rhetoric
will redeem darkness of this tantalizing life
where all the hope is frustrated...

Gone Astray © Ladanseuse

An Allegory

Thus spoke my soul

in the voice allegorical

that only I could hear

as I wove its threads

until an unexpected unravelling.  

An Allegory © Ladanseuse 

Transl. "Jinotaj"