Poetry Pages

Miroslav Válek - Drumming to the other side (Bubnovanie na opačnú stranu) Short before death I buy a chromed bike ringing to all sides of the world that you are lovely. Perhaps in March when there are smokes above the earth like from crematories the soil burns the dead body of the last year's weed, ...

My pleasure ... I think they absolutely deserve to be better known ...

Jan Skácel - The ashes (Popely) He wrote with finger to the dust and has not left it and the wind sings something recently long ago and at the oil derrick the herd of deer stood motionless and fairly listened What of it is and will not be that was once written why speak out loudly that the grass was...

Miroslav Válek - The autumn (Jeseň) Go crazy or drink yourself to death. Autumn puts her empty hands on your shoulder and asks for fire, on the autumn's sleeve sits a mouse and the autumn prays : "Don't go away, buy some rubies from me." You deny, so she will buy you. And you will not get rid of tho...

Jan Skácel - The teacher of the second death (Učitel druhé smrti) On a long bench along four whitewashed walls were sitting the children who had died only recently Now they were waiting for their second death. They were sitting in well-mannered way and with their little hands in their laps Totally m...

Miroslav Válek - The wings (Krídla) So it is summer. The blind men in Bahon are lifting their heads above the wall, above the barbed wire, they are watching the trains, long and slim like whistling, they are ripping the weeds, coughing. Near Cifer a girl is sunbathing with her hands above her head, ...

Jan Skácel - The last thirst (Poslední žízeň) So long ago did we pass away and so much of thirst so much of lovely thirst we did leave at home It is so long ago and so many years elapsed since then It is unbelievable and all the same after quartzite does taste and after sulphur that thirst forever t...

Miroslav Válek - The sensitive (Citliví) The mirror should be behind your back, your hand in a glove, your leg under the table. Do not look. They are hunchbacks, with one leg shorter, with one arm ending at the wrist. They sit, they listen. From the conversations that do not concern them, from the w...

Jan Skácel - Daughters of song (Dcery písně) My night is the darkest where morning begins and the little birds' horror beneath the windows starts in full wolume. Then I get up And deprived of the previous day I go to the bathroom. Going there I am ashamed among my furniture. Once again I am only mys...

Miroslav Válek - The touches (Dotyky) Since the morning the telegrams keep coming to your home, the sea of letters floods the house, telephones began to ring all at once. It is nothing to worry about, it is nothing to worry about, it is only that I am calling you incessantly, re-establishing the bro...

Jan Skácel - The night travellers (Cestující v noci) The thefts of gods' property woke us around midnight We blindly touch around us and sleepy request the news how much cool is the night The dream persists like an unbroken egg on a rock And it is the moment when we dream about ourselves And the cen...

Miroslav Válek - A minute before falling asleep (Minútu pred usnutím) I saw a purple-fledged bird My eyes are full of beautiful dissonancies In the night ignited by its wings I am always alone I am worried I am crying I am making up a while with you among roses there I am learning you by heart there...

Jan Skácel - Always (Pořád) Tirelessly the snow falls all day as if some hooligans beat to death with beer bottles a swan in the sky and its sad feathers were falling down. I am so afraid of deadly silence, of the weight on trees and eternity, that in the humans ceased. And I am not a bit ashamed fo...

Miroslav Válek - An apple (Jablko) An apple rolled down from the closet to the floor. So pack your things and you can go. She leaned with her back to the door and cried with her eyes : For god's sake I beseech you, no ! But I knew for good that I had enough; I stood up, picked up the apple, dusty an...

Jan Skácel - Seeking cobwebs (Vyhledávání pavučin) Decaying tiny spooks live in their stumps they enjoy living there as if the time was still made of wood And all soup spoons all bridges and all oak ridges Behind the wasp nest if you don't ask you may find that squelched place where on the lea dance...