Venice masks

Friday, 13 August 2021

XIV - Frank Martinus Arion

Same way a melody can enter a man, rips into him
Sending him to shimmy and dance on his feet,
Pushing him to lose his balance and his good name,
making smoke come smoldering off his marching body—

Your lips have done the same to me.
Almost dead now from smoke and dancing, I need a guitar for me to play
Rip this motherfucker from where it stood in my soul
Before it turns me into a crazy lizard
Or fires me to pop open yet another fuming bottle.

Well, all that noise is nowhere to be found on your lips, unnecessary—
A red flower, whichever way I turn it is looking at me and finds me
Its image, reflected here, blooms and bosoms down low into my soul—

It opens and shuts in front of me, calls
Tells me things, but I can't hear well from afar
While I am wanting, heaving for kisses

Frank Martinus Arion (1936 - 2015) Curaçao
Translated by Arturo Desimone
Source: SX Salon

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