(sł. K. Cicha, W. Shakespeare)
The crowd of billboards along the street
Just like thoughts in my brain
Too many shapes, too much rush
Let’s prepare ourselves for the night
No doubt – it’s time to escape
The moon tries to come closer – the stars begin to dance
The troubles of the day must pass and wait for the next sunrise
“Come gentle night, come loving night, give me my lover
And when he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garrish sun”
One busy day after another
No dreams, no air, no relief
In the middle of the day I search for the moon.
When will you come to soften my body
When will you break the wall inside me
When will I be able
To catch your loving face
“Oh I have bought a mansion of love
But not possessed it, and though I am sold
Not yet enjoyed
so tedious is the day
Like an impatient child I’m waiting
I am waiting” (W. Shakespeare, fragmenty monologów Julii z “Romea i Julii)
sł. K. Cicha
take this vial and drink
be brave and be not scared.
You will only fall asleep
but your body will look like dead.
Then they‘ll lay you in that vault
where your lover will find you soon.
His grief will melt when he sees
that you wake up from this mortal dream.
Only trust that you will rise
From this death-like dreaming.
Then you’ll see him.
Take this vial and drink
You’ll fade away for a while
Until you see your lover next day
You are completely alone.
People around you think that you’ve died.
They will lay you in a gloomy vault.
Try to conquer this strangling fear
Saying that you’ll stay in death’s embrace.
sł. K. Mojsak
All that is solid melts into air
the air for people to breath
the air for people to share
the air for us to steal each other
No chance to go back
And no use to despair
When all that is solid melts into air
and you have shifting sand in your shoes
but it’s now you who can choose the direction
no protection, no connection
so much to gain, nothing to loose
straight paths, illusions
maps and tricks and traps
books of rules – confusions
deluge of delusions
free will is freewheeling whenewer it wills
steer cleer of ill-will and do what you will
don’t confuse the giant with a wind mill
(sł. K. Cicha, K. Mojsak)
There’s light from inside
From the eighth dimension
But I’m not a part of it
I’m not that force inside me
My possession is not mine
My power is only pretence
It appears and goes away
I’d like to keep it for myself
The stream of beauty, impossible to define
It chose me to be its medium
I’m trying to catch it
but it always escapes
It blows wherever it wants
And I can hear its voice
But I don’t know where where it comes from
And where it goes.
The meaning always comes from a side angle
It always comes after all. Like a thief
The rest happens of it’s its own will
The rest is silence.