22 October, 2021

My Heart's Endlessness

 You err in surmising that
by my boundaries I was thrust into loneliness;
since my Self is limitless,
I am boundless and yet alone.

'twas not mine,
but the other
that closed,
in fear of the depths ‒ I am the depths...

Thus, my heart broke
and is now full of love,
a love with nowhere to go...

My Heart's Endlessness © Ladanseuse
& edited bilingually, in Czech as "Nekonečno srdce mého", in 2021

21 October, 2021


That lunatic
got on the train,
out of the window his sanity went,
even if he swore blind that would not be the case,
and got off at the next station, where
he hurled love into a burning pyre.

Meshuga © Ladanseuse
Excerpt from a poem written in 2000, transl. & edited  "Mešuge" in 2021

The Dance of Heart-breaking Tenderness

Stars of hands in flashes are intertwined
in a misshapen murk,
wherein the heart has burst with a bloody desire;
in sparkling fireworks the soul's vigil
over the dancing body subsides;
bare feet ‒ naked skin ‒ on shards.

A whirl of drumming in the heart is drowned out by the siren's sound;
night on Earth descends
like a nuclear fallout
of an ego puffed-up;
the mind filled with magic mushrooms
is groaning itself hoarse;
just your huge owlish eyes are full of shine
as the death bell rings.

Tenderness ‒ a desert Fata Morgana
appears within reach;
a pulsating artery of flowing gold,
blinded eyes,
a twisted hand
in beggarly agonies.

In a mane of hair
a voice resounds in waves;
dignity is in a bow;
here stands a Mecca
for the Englightened.

The Dance of Heart-breaking Tenderness © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Tanec něhy srdcervoucí" 2021, written in 2001

18 October, 2021

Love, Spellbound

Clouds of black ravens are swarming in the heart, 
bewildering mojo abracadabra,
into a blur dives the world
of my eyes, faces, cars;
the army of darkness in the bareness has sown fright.

Love, a dream of the sun you've become,
shining every heavenly day
to die bewildered by will-o'-the-wisps at night;
 a child lost to its mother you are,
obscured in dispair of eyes.

Love, Spellbound © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Lásky zakletí", written 2001

The Perfidious Promise

Hope ‒ the perfidious promise
of childlike, smiling eyes,
sweetly kissing lips, 
a gratifying embrace;
hope ‒ but one touch of yours suffices
for yet another hopeless day
to arise.

The Perfidious Promise © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Věrolomný příslib", written in 2001


You can break me up,
as I have no heart;

you can condemn me,
as I have no soul;

you can slay me,
as I have no body;

you can ignore me,
as I am nonexistent.


Omnipotence © Ladansseuse
Transl. "Všemoc", written in 2000


Behind the window meows a cat
like a lovelorn sweetheart
with shining eyes, dreamily
wandering at night
until the cerulean skies of another morning
makes the wanderer
veiled in melancholy
go beddy-byes.

She will then curl up
in the warmth of her fluffy coat
to roar once more
behind my window
at night,
she, naughty wanderer!

She-Wanderer © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Tulačka", written 2000

A Materialized Dream

I am lonesome, as if lost. As if I dreaded all smiling faces in the scent of spring long gone. As if all was shiny in my dark, in my invisible dark. Strange how hard it is, being able to be happy. Being able to shy away thoughts of my own nothingness. The world turning around me. The sleepless nights and the heavy daily sleep. The undying restraint. Runaway feelings fly on the streets like fragments of the soaring soul. Those dark thoughts, those thoughts have taught me to fear, to fear the world in its seemingly staged defenselessness, fear words, fear to move, fear to look, fear to live, fear a wild joy that lies in things I cannot but need if fulfilled. In the need for protection and safety, the need for support and encouragement, the need for a smile and an embrace, the need for understanding and harmonious consonance..., the fulfillment of which cannot be troublefree, the fulfillment of which cannot be complete. There are no solitaries ‒ there are warriors only, indomitable and unbreakable and incorrigible spirits only. Only those that can perceive each nuance innerly, emotionally, under a veil of mystery, under a mask of untouchability, under a cloak of impassivity. Words may be unsubstantial and deeds illegible. Is the world possibly drunk with its own fame, who knows? Giving must surely be more than taking; it is like a fervent wish that has started burning within and engulfed all of me, with a remaining void afterward. And I am just a reader of unwritten lines, a listener of unspoken words, one drowned in the shine of a never lit light. I am roving and longing and pining ‒ for the shining bliss of dance; for the road that will lead me there; for the hand that will reach out to lift me and hold me... so that I can get up, wake up and see the truth devoid of wandering fantasies that change reality into a blur of a never experienced morning. Who am I and what can I do when unaware of it and the world is silent? Why do I always feel that the world starts dancing the moment I fall asleep? That I must not look on or even touch that dancing world? If only my palm print on a window pane never faded away and my footprints never disappeared, if only my eyes were never consumed by sleep, if only my heart were never in want. Unless unrestraint is possible, all the doors to the world remain closed: All cannot be managed, understood, gotten, believed... My doubts are paralyzing, breathtaking, blinding, darkening, and so deafening that all the rest is inaudible... and my smile has gone some place and cannot be found. Are there only dreams left? Who can hear, see, feel, understand? Where is MY angel? Whence does my constant sense of being depreciated and underestimated derive? I do not know-not know-not know, but I need it so. Please, I am begging please in spirit. Why am I alone when not being so? Why am I sad? Why do I have needs, why is there a need for needs? I want. To change. The World. The world of colors, the world of sounds. This one. Mine. Ours. No-n-sense. Truth. Laugh. Tears. I must find strength, the strength to see beauty, the strength to emanate beauty. A beauty unknown and ungraspable and alluring. I want to give in to it, to be it. To believe that there are no dark shadows; and if so, that they can be shied away. To feel. To be near love. To percieve nuances of all. Not ignorance, not madness ‒ certainty in the discovered truth. A strength that will fill me with longing and I will walk up a hill like a happy fool, my scream being louder and my faith stronger. And I will dispose of my body, as I have chosen my soul. In my dance will I find my heart that will never stop beating. In the immateriality, in the life energy. I will become my dream. And when I hear the calling, I will respond. Always will I respond. In all certainty, I too will get a response, coming to awareness once. There is nothing, except for fear perhaps, to be found in ill premonitions. I would like to feel alive without remaining unknown; to know that my being equals to my giving. I know of my ability to love, fight, be; to find the energy of an untethered strength. There is a need to learn to live. To understand what I can and cannot have; acknowledge the value of what I have and have not. To go on, without asking futilely, to find that which I am meant to eventually. DANCE! DANCE! DANCE! To be dance. To be dance. To be dance, music, and myself in all faith. To love and to give myself. Not to hear my heart weep. It is diminishing my stamina and I need to go on... to go on and on unwearingly step by step getting closer to my dream..

A Materialized Dream © Ladanseuse 
Trans. "Zhmotnělý sen", an undated stream of consciousness, edited in  2021

17 October, 2021

Fragments of the Absolute

I will not narrate it all; this will not be the absolute but fragmentary traces of the magical depth of perception that lies in the power of moments, for whatever is once verbalized and named ‒ particularly that which cannot be contained so ‒ will be taken out of that deep, endless sphere of the essence and pure truth, nearing the superficial and the limited, wherein it will be veiled in illusory secrecy ‒ whereas the nonverbal, impalpable and spontaneously free will remain where it is supposed to: in the instances that have endowed a perceptive soul with an understanding that needs no words...


I have made a spiritual, even mystical journey, being filled with pain and sadness on the verge of explosion at first to gain power of a good, unbeatable kind after an inner rebirth. All was nurtured by the intensity of all, by a plethora of percepts: the starry sky above; the nature teeming with life and yet devoid of the suffocation of a city; the nightly silence, absolute but for the chirps of crickets, monolithic just as dark; the sun that burned as it warmed up; dance and my strolls through the village, both of which were wearying me physically but spiritually turned into a hungry need, nutrition and then fulfillment; music ‒ the age-old beating of drums that pulsated through my body daily; and all the souls drawing near one another just as growing apart, both fighting and embracing each other, becoming one...The total mindfulness, freedom of the mind, emotiveness... And one would create, starting at each new dawn, so as at night, when one would coalesce into its still, one would become fully aware that the day had not been fulfilled by time as much as by traces one had left behind on one's journey... and that if one had been a painter of light on that day, one had become a child of infinity...


I have come to a realization that the pain I felt is not ‒ cannot be, despite all appearances ‒ my enemy. It is inevitable, and even if not ‒ I should not shun it. If I let it enter me, dwell in me; if I suffer it, letting it go through me, and make it go away on a psychical plane ‒ then, when the pain disappears, I will grow from it, becoming stronger than before.


I am said to have taken the "difficult" path, which is said to be "incorrect". I do not decide for a path according to its easiness or difficultness ‒ of optional ones, I choose such that I consider right, as it leads to the (notional) temple; i.e., where I would like to get. If the path that leads to my destination happens to be hard, am I supposed to turn around and leave it so as to tread another, easy one instead that leads nowhere though? Certainly: if I am not genuine and if I do not mean business; otherwise: hardly. The way to success cannot lead through successfulness; in constrast, it leads through failures; before climbing up the mountain top, one will likely fall and get hurt many times on one's way there and the time spent on it will be a test of one's patience, but if one wants to reach one's destination, the choice to be made is clear-cut.


Moreover, there is the aspect of dissatisfaction: Since it is not satisfaction but dissatisfaction that makes one to take pains to meet the desirable end; since when one is satisfied, what would one strive for? One might as well rest on one's assumed pedestal, but if one made no effort whatsoever, what would one live for? Just to breathe and eat and sleep? And if it was true that one's world is so perfect, spotless, light-heartedly floating in time, if it is fulfilled, why would one seek other worlds ‒ spheres that will wake one up, interrupt one's slumber, and enliven it with authenticity?


Fragments of the Absolute © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Střípky absolutna"; undated, written ca. 2003-8; Vojnarka, Trstěnice u Litomyšla

16 October, 2021

Phoenix Rising

We floated like water
unknowingly in our sweet reverie,
but we were tinder
that caught fire,
which plunged us into misery.


We fondly wish it had not happened, for the flood of pain was, and still may be, maddening. Even if we heal, we remain scarred forever; even in the brightest shine, there is a flitting shadow here and there. We rightfully feel that it is “not right”

But... it is the deepest pain that can lead us to become our highest Self should we possess enough strength to undergo such an inner transformation.. Pain can be alchemized into power, the greatness of the former being directly proportional to that of the latter. There is a Sufi prayer that says, "Break my heart into thousands of pieces so that it can be filled with endless love." We wish to be safe, despite which we cannot remain closed to the world, as only with the open heart can we be loving.

This too is part of our becoming whom we are now; such is the path we have taken; such is our destination: Here we come as such and we cannot "unbe" so. We would be different if it had not happened the way it did, not necessarily better off ‒ temporarily happier perhaps, but likely poorer in spirit too. We would not have reached as far as here ‒ where we are predestined to be. 

It is not about the negation of reality ‒ it is about re-focus on inner growth and wisdom; about the finding of some meaning even in dark places as we shine our inner light upon them. It is baptism by fire, but one through which we will be reborn.


Inner trials are immeasurable and individual, thus futile are efforts to measure them objectively. My heartbreak or trauma may be devalued in uncompassionate eyes that regard it as "no big deal", but still it is my reality that reserves, with due empathy and understanding, such recognition. 

Therefore, rest assured, I say so with utmost respect and compassion for people and that which they must have gone through. I know what suffering is and so do I know that no-one wants to suffer, thus I deeply feel for all sufferers. I, being but a humble one, do not imagine triumphing over all ‒ I just refuse the victim mentality that would only render my hands tied. 

The mythical Phoenix rose from its own ashes as a transformed, new being, which, to me, is a great symbol of a sufferance that has lead to greatness. Alas, not all rise... But can we rise? Yes, we can! Whatever exists or happens is what it is, but it is our perception of it that predetermines how we perceive it, and thus it will appear to us. Who or what determines what is or is not beyond us? We ourselves do! Let us stay strong!


Should you rise, like I have risen, from the ashes of your own life, you will discover that...
not even annihilation is the very end, as from the incinerated a new life shall spring; 
there exist no irretrievable losses, for any loss is followed by renewal;
neither do bad events last for eternity but strengthen one for self-advancement.
Änd so find in yourself the faith in continuation, courage and resolve to go on;
find in yourself the strength to live and you will soar like a Phoenix high above!
That is, yours is a brave heart!

Phoenix Rising © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Fenixův vzlet", written 2020 - 2021

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Enchanted Woe