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.