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melas
16:44
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jis spūstelėjo rankeną, ir durys prasivėrė.
ir už jų buvo kitos durys.
jis spūstelėjo rankeną, ir kitos durys prasivėrė.
šitaip jis atidarė šimtą dvidešimt keturias duris.
tada jis pavargo ir sukrito.
„už šimtas dvidešimt ketvirtųjų durų yra sodas,
jame ką tik išsiskleidė rožės“, galvojo jis,
snaudulingai mirdamas.
už durų buvo durys.
(Antanas Škėma; 1960)
EN:
he pushed the handle down, and the door opened.
and behind it there was another door.
he pushed the handle down, and another door opened.
in this way, he opened a hundred and twenty four doors.
then he grew tired and collapsed.
behind the hundred twenty fourth door there’s a garden
where roses have just bloomed, he thought,
while drowsily dying.
behind the door there was another door.
(Antanas Škėma; “A Lie”; 1960)
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2. |
ilgės
16:42
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savo medį atidarei. keisti ženklai, bet ten nieko nebuvo.
jo rievėmis leidaisi. raštai keisti, kuriuose nieko nebuvo.
prigulus galva žemyn. traškesiai nauji, tik ten nieks nejudėjo.
vis skambėjo ausyse, bet ir tame garse visai nieko nebuvo.
tu uodą paglostei, drebulėms barstant žemes lyg iš už kampo.
ant tavojo kalno, kuris grindimis liko, vis niekas neaugo.
apie vietą, kur ošia, sapnas lengvas už nakties užkliūva.
tik nerimo gaisais pasiekia jausmas: nakties mieste nebūna.
kaip brendi, vis tiesiai, kad vis kitaip, kaip ieškai, vis vos apčiuopiamų; tu jiems vardus naujus davei.
kas sala, nors sietas. tarsi spalva, nors miegas. ji žėri lyg vėjy plaukiančios, linguojančios skiautės.
ar gyva, kas dulksnoj išnyra? visai staiga, kaip ir dingsta, – vos girdimi laukai.
prieš akis vos matos. tiki – juos supa vien šakos. tu jas ilgėm pavadinai.
savo medį atidarei. keisti ženklai, bet ten nieko nebuvo.
ant savojo kalno sapnų vis klauseisi, bet arti vis nieko nebuvo.
juose ilgės vis tolsta, tu vejies nepailsęs ir… paveji kelias, o ten lyg kas kruta.
ir tiesiog priešais jose kažkas svarbaus buvo. kažkas svarbaus buvo. kažkas svarbaus buvo.
EN:
you opened your tree. strange signs, but there was nothing there.
you descended its rings. strange ornaments in which there was nothing.
laid your head down. new crackles, but nothing moved there.
it kept ringing in your ear, but even in this sound there was absolutely nothing.
you stroked a mosquito as the aspens were strewing earth, as though round the corner.
nothing grew on your hill, which remained your floor.
an ethereal dream of a rustling place stumbles over the night.
yet a feeling reaches you with the glows of angst: the city knows no night.
how you are wading, always straight, always differently, how you are looking for the ever evasive things you gave new names.
what is an island, though in truth a sieve. like colour, although sleep in truth. it shines like rags afloat and swaying in the wind.
is it alive, that which emerges in the drizzle? as suddenly as it is gone – fields you can barely hear.
before your eyes, so barely visible. you believe they are surrounded solely by branches. you’ve called the latter caretakers of yearning.
you opened your tree. strange signs, but there was nothing there.
on your hill, you kept listening to dreams, but nothing was ever close.
in dreams, the caretakers of yearning kept growing distant; you chased them tirelessly, and... when you caught a few, something seemed to stir there.
and something essential was just in front of you. something so essential was there.
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Skeldos Lithuania
Abstract, longing, flowing soundscapes with tender touch of a distant melody - a Lithuanian project of anxious electronic, industrial, ambient.
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