I listen to the symphony of these many languages.
Echo of so many journey through life .
Sometime a garden of Eden ,
often a hellish tower of Babel ...
it's always the same words in a different skin
that the shadow itself burns ...
Puzzles that remained insolved ,
meeting the gaze of a familiar stranger
walking their dog and waiting for death...
I hear entwined sounds trying to find love
amid the hustle of the bus stop ,
heading toward a terminus that might
just be oneself ...
I feel tormented by the shrillness of silent
esperantos that believe themselves safe
behind souls trapped by the unfathomable
curse of birth ...
Only a fun way to pass the tragedy on a rainy day...
Dear unloved ones you invited me without
asking my agreement !
I've forgotten the angel's gibberish ,
learning to understand without being able to respond !
There are too many etiquette rules that tell you
to meet up at tea time - no sugar please ,
just a bland cloud by Maria Rainer Rilke -
Thank you for the future .
The tremolo of my flute scared away
the mezzo-soprano rats who draw their inspiration
from long melodious farts ...
Mozart's artifacts ,out of fortune ...
I am a poor ragpicker who lives in poetry .
Translating multiple languages bickering inside me...
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: May 22nd, 2026 11:02
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Ellen Marsell, Tristan Robert Lange
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Comments3
It seems to me that you are sensitive to the theme of language as a psychological destiny. This is a rare theme. Most texts about multilingualism speak about culture, travel, or identity. But here, languages become states of consciousness. They live inside a person like arguing personalities.
A pataphysical study of the human condition .
So many think of life as a blessing and hang on with all that they have got when it may well be a curse instead. Well said Lorenz
Essay on a polyphonic creature !
Nice
Lorenz, this feels like standing inside the noise of humanity itself...languages, longing, absurdity, loneliness, beauty, all colliding together at once. The poem drifts between philosophy and surrealism in a way that feels deeply lived-in rather than performative. “It’s always the same words in a different skin” really stayed with me. Powerful work, my friend. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
who s the liar ? the narrator or the translator ?
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