szemünkben a fény

Charles Bukowski: ANOTHER BED
from: Love is a Mad Dog from Hell

another bed
another women

more curtains
another bathroom
another kitchen

other eyes
other hair
other
feet and toes.

everybodys looking.
the eternal search.

you stay in bed
she gets dressed for work
and you wonder what happened
to the last one
and the one after that...
it's all so comfortable-
this love making
this sleeping together
the gentle kindness...

after she leaves you get up and use her
bathroom,

it's all so intimate and strange.
you go back to bed and
sleep another hour.

when you leave its with sadness
but you'll se her again
whether it works or not.
you drive down to the shore and sit
in your car. it's almost noon.

-another bed, other ears, other
ear rings, other mouths, other slippers, other
dresses

colors, doors, phone numbers.

you were once strong enough to live alone.
for a man nearing sixty you should be more
sensible.

you start the car and shift,
thinking, I'll phone Jeanie when I get in,
I haven't seen her since Friday.

Egy újabb ágy 

egy újabb ágy
egy újabb nő

még több függöny
egy újabb fürdőszoba
egy újabb konyha

újabb szemek
újabb frizura
újabb lábujjak.

mindenki csak bámul.
örökös szemlélődés.

az ágyban heverészel
ő pedig öltözködik, munkába készül
azt kérded magadtól, mi a fene történhetett
az előbbivel és az azelőttivel...
minden olyan kényelmes -
a szeretkezés
az együttalvás
a gyengéd cirógatás...
amikor elmegy
felkelsz, a fürdőszobába mész
minden olyan intim és különös.
visszabotorkálsz az ágyba
még egy órát alszol.

amikor eltávozol, szomorú vagy
de látni fogod majd úgyis
vajon szép lesz-e a viszontlátás.

elhajtasz a tengerpartig és ott
üldögélsz a kocsiban délig

- egy újabb ágy, újabb fülek,
újabb orca, másik ajak,

másik papucsok, másik ruhák,
színek, ajtók, telefonszámok.

egykoron elég erős voltál, hogy egyedül élj.
de így hatvanhoz közeledve
érzelmesebb is lehetnél.

beindítod a kocsit és
arra gondolsz, felhívod Jeanie-t
ha visszaérsz a városba
nem láttad péntek óta.

(ford. Fenyvesi Ottó)

We're just whistling past the graveyard
Laughing in backseats and restaurants
Don't know ourselves well but so what
We know each other
Floating down from all my mixed up meditations
Trying to straighten out my spine
It's been folding in the moments that I need it
I'm obsessing over finish lines
Asked you why you're smiling every time you see me
Said I remind you of a joke
I think you might actually me on to something
There's no point in trying to take ourselves so seriously
We're swaying in subconscious subways so insane
But your thoughts still bring flowers for my brain
And I still pull my hands past your ribcage
Hoping my movements might find their place at your side
For as long as you'd like
And we will weave in and out of sanity unnoticed
Swirling in blissfully restless visions of all our bleary progress
Glowing in radiant madness
Certain of all we're become
Now we're sneaking out the backdoor of our American minds
Gonna leave a couple hundred years of bad tradition behind
Done with swimming in the sea of agitated animal doubt
Gonna make up out own meanings till the final blackout x2

Come to send, not condescend
Transcendental consequence
Is to transcend where we are
Who are we? Who we are
Trampled moss on your souls
Changes all you're a part
Seen it all, not at all
Can't defend fucked up man
Take me a for a ride before we leave...
Circumstance, clapping hands
Driving winds, happenstance
Off the track, in the mud
That's the moss in the aforementioned verse

Just a little time, before we leave...
Stop light, plays its part
So I would say you've got a part
What's your part? Who you are
You are who, who you are