BRIDE OF SHIPS

Note: Try reading it with music in the background: Keith Jarrett Sapporo Part 1, start around min: 5 or 7
A feeling of waves washing through the body or goosebumps will occur if music is timed well with the reading.

Lanterns in the colt’s neck,
By desire hung,
A star shining at the shoulder of night,
Oiled by the sorrow trees, the palms.
Freed from the knot of two shores,
The farewell of the ship departs—
A ship of ships, not of light.
The flutes bewailed the wind of decay,
waking its captain, the impossible.
From the blowing wind he tasted,
And in this trial’s ache found delight.

My soul a sentry, when the waves
Folded on her till; ruptures spawned,
And she with the ship into one;
fused—unite. In belonging—
That is the way to belong.

I have perished in love,
and with me it; in vanishing combined,
So from two vanishing ones might sprout;
Existence, permanence.

A house I built
From illusions, love, and teardrops.
Love is where? and where is love?
The building is done.

Of ships, O bride,
On thy sun’s timber my back I pressed.
Attentive on silence I keep,
bloodied, I from people on the ground.
And for help to the sea I plead
before reading my compass and my guide.
Unveil I what the raptors have gnawed
from the morsel of the heart,
And open the wounds have I kept
To the winds of salt marshes or brine.
For a gash could dream not
Unless in his severing blade—
Would gawk— absurdly
In the heavy dark.

Then the sun had its orbit capped,
And fantasies had me envisioned,
Sleeping beneath a thousand sails.
Zoroastrian my tale is,
Within her centered the fire temple,
And my heart’s hasty to depart.

Far from the cursed clockwork of time,
O ship, a little heavy is
My small luggage of pride.
And burdened were thou not with little or small.
The lamps shall I keep aflame, lit
In the glamour of the morning,
As a settlement between
The dawn’s waking and my own.
As the wind stays for me a guide,
Ask her will I of a seagull or bout’
That once on a voyage with the soul was,
In the storm times of the lightning strikes,
When oceans used to lay
Drunken in my arms,
And from their waters;
Green my garments dyed.
Through thousands of years of youth,
What a time has passed by.
O passion, O longing, O ardent love—
You’ve like today never been.
Excitement without,
And nothing remains on my mind now
But the bull-headed inner sob,
Of the interweaving of indigo
In the surge, along with the violet froth,
Bejeweled with pearls in the dusk.
Adorned with the night, O Bride,
Is the violet froth,
And the moon in the moment
Of two orange blossoms spun.
Changed too soon, O shallow joy,
And my heart an apron—
On it sits of crows a throng,
Lamenting before the crescent sets.

Bride of ships,
On thy golden deck conclude I.
My head to the sea is turned—
Of endlessness and night,
Breathing the scent,
Grueling-worn and by waves tossed
Some to the right and some to the left,
To the back my head is bent,
Of booze made heavy, dense
So was from the hardship of time spent,
Sapped, made in an age of bogs,
From the search in the land wet,
For at least a moss;
Through the late watches with me to hark,
To the impossible of the way,
The point, the end.

Dozing at God’s are all the seagulls,
And none but your ship left,
By the northern winds stunned,
On its face dripping, the sunset mist,
And by the islands, the sweat of the God.

Where then its anchors will the evening cast?
Houses from water I built,
By the paddling made; destruct
So the building act remains constant.
For days, two long,
In the solitude of who, self-contradict,
This ship back and forth
Is pushed by the start.
Quenched her of the wind’s illness,
A drink the second time,
And enticing her that
It is in her nature to derive.

O progeny of infinities and ships,
What ecstasy you got!
When the sea had sung
With the melody of mercury spume,
And dazzling the lapis and emeralds shined.

O Lapis, O Emeralds, O precious rocks—
If the sea chants,
A letter of melody the cosmos becomes,
Topped with intensity,
Then intensity, then prolonged
To the intense after that, a tug,
And cleaving I am to the boat in the dark.
Onto my oar, like a woman’s waist,
Tight I clutch.

Now a dose, O friend, you got,
While here countless being the stars,
And you as created by the God,
In beastly ecstasy, between the masts, caught
Of the remaining grey hair, lightning incites,
And playing with what left of thunder in the heart
In what of violet and the universe of depth,
Staggering did your screams soar high,
As it reaches the last of thresholds:
Vitality—full, relentless, just.

Of ships, O Bride,
On the vile leave me not—
That of two shores one is
For madness strikes
If a sound rings in the distant-far;
Disturbing the stillness of night.
Bride of the ships, leave me not
With what a filthy tyrant been ruling by.
For that in me:
The booze had its magic stopped,
And the body of this remedy topped.
And of patience waiting,
The skin had pale gone.
Of all the letters the lovable is
What we with a small breath utter,
After, not prolonged.
And do tell, O Bride,
What are the lovers but
The emphasis of the God—
Of the endless mysteries unbound?

If the violet-composed sap melt,
And in the weakness of the sea dripping,
Swept, I dwindle in place, affixed
My body contracts—
Of ships, O Bride,
And the cold in the glossy morning,
silk-made dress.
Migrate none at dawn but the swans.
The eternal boredom in my body rests.
Only by the sea’s mysteries I am impressed.

“Take me!” I yelled
Let me hear their bells—
A lightning insists in my heart.
Love-entranced I, O seas,
Swing your bells!
Haunted by what in the streets
Of beheadings and theft,
And the cup full, its liquid spilled,
Houses of illusion and tears I built.
With my soul I converse,
And every dialogue with the soul
Watered was!
Into bird cometh the time, living,
And in my cage wept
When it saw his companion,
By the death claw stabbed,
And the singing halts.

When then, O Bride,
Of clarity will the time come?
My heart’s a kingdom of pus-filled blebs,
And my body of illness reached the summit.
Take me to read of the storm’s spirit,
when she cuddles the wrath of nights.
Take me—
For the essence, squeezed-condensed,
In drowning dissolves.
Take me… Take me… Take me…
For the sea needs no questions asked,
And one heals when at sea, fully lost.
I shout: O Sea!
O Lord, O Darkness, O Dance!
In traditions there is—
What is the looseness of the bowels?
The sea follows no compass, O ship,
but it is what the compasses after are.
Exert the minds of the sailors all,
Whom their beards ashore pawned;
What looseness of the bowels begets.

Unleash, blast, O storm!
Wheels slipped from their clocks.
Floods leap each other atop
When they in the chaos collide.
On the last breath will the rebel’s attempt,
When of the dangerous road
The crossing must be done.
To know the stream source, O Bride,
One only needs a drop.
The moment nears—stay up
Rifles awaken in arrogance
The meteors and amber rouse, mob,
And blood comes dreadful, dark
Doomsday is its smallest drop:
A black storm with a thousand eyes,
With a red storm on the top,
Beards curl like scorpion tails,
To the petrified, for they could not
From their skin hide.

I dreamt conscious,
And fulfillment in the dreams is
Of what to come,
Migrate none in the midst of night
But the ducks.
The vessels astray, not steered
By a captain advent in knowledge
Of the seas; drift apart,
Aside by the night; ditched in exhaust,
Within them the groans sough.

Bride of ships, away from
What in you my soul delights,
Into the far deserted I.
For I from a nation;
The desert burst into her nights,
And nothing in the doctrines I saw but
Their Esse, and in that never adopt.
For my roots in the ground faithfully
Extended, that of flowers is my sky,
And my orbs not eclipsed,
Crystal clear they gave sight
But the blear is on nation’s eyes,
Which rears its artists corrupt,
And who of intellect, the good of heart,
Into exile outcasts.

Foraging for love, O Bride, I deserted.
And from illusions and teardrops,
For it, houses I construct.
Found I the tryst of soil and sky,
Of being a mere dot.
But for love searching I keep,
and wielding silence, the endless I fight.
So, in my cage wept the bird of the time,
When his companion saw—
By the death claw stabbed,
And the singing halts.

Of ships, O Bride,
In thee on the sun’s timber
My back I rest.
Attentive on silence I keep,
And to the sea I plead for help.
Busy people are,
And the time swiftly passing by.
When the sun had its orbit done,
And the day had reached its end—
Take me to the sea, O Bride.
Of games bored my heart grew,
And the head heavy is
With liquor and the arduous time
Asleep are all the seagulls,
And none left but your ship,
Dazzled by the endlessness, stunned.

Of ships, O howdah, O Bride,
Swaying among the planets.
Let the sea brisk, high, and you
Fetch me to the light,
To the valley of the kings, O Bride
Of perfection I see,
Bewitching are the chariots of time,
Reaching eternity at the sun’s temple
Lofty at the moment goodness is,
Wearing her enticements of all
From her shoulders above;
Consecrated sadness ascends
By a royal parade and who been carried within.
Supplications rise, intense,
With the morning ascent,
Glories rise,
Gold-haltered horses upward take steps,
Thy parade, O brave with intellect,
Longing for the moment since time began.
I scream stop!
So the God of time halts,
And my heart at sadness—
Like a slate stone paused
And goddess lofty is,
Her breasts softly vibrate, throb.
To the statue I looked up,
Of Goodness, at the brow that was
Anointed by creation with wine and pride.

O friend, eternally here the rain trill,
And on a distant hill, winter frown.
O Pharaoh!
Immortalized whom with God are,
By the pyramids of thy, hasty come,
For someone in this age of dark,
Out of disgrace a pyramid construct.

Frowned the face of God in disgust,
So the horses in anger whipped,
And their backs in fire burst.
Hold! I screamed,
Hold! O eternal keeper,
Of thy love will the time come.
Love soft is, yet in all dents,
And love found not, at first sight.

Bride of ships, back to Earth fetch me,
So in her my roots I extend.
For my sky of flowers is,
And in us soil and space unite.

Then cometh full the circle, O Bride,
But a question presses:
Whose blood is in the dark?
And around it, into blossoms
Come the eyes, wide awake,
Through the night, waiting on corpses,
Oiled by machines, blood, and pride.
With blood the machines will remain oiled,
And from them drawn a cloth of blood,
Until the land tells its judgments.

Bride of ships,
For the much oil one has, content,
Each will with light shine.