mayte martin en lidia pujol

la valeur réelle de l'art est
en fonction de son pouvoir
de révélation libératrice



kunst is maar waardevol als zij bevrijdend kan werken

there is a difference between the pains
that inevitably come in life,
and the suffering
we create around the pain

one day, I will awaken at last in heaven
and living or dead, you
 
will be there to hold both of my hands
that will tremble no longer as we sit
 
face to face and see to the bottom
of each others eyes, each taking a turn
 
first me and then you, in speaking aloud all
of the small dark things we held back
 
from each other, back when the wind
might still have cooled these skins, back
 
when we could still bleed, so easy--
so easy, back before we knew for sure
 
that bleeding for each other
first you and then me,
 
was the only chance we ever had,
one day I will awaken at last in heaven
 
and living or dead, you
will be there.

if I exorcise
my devils,

my angels
may leave too

become totally empty
let your heart be at peace

amidst the rush of wordly
comings and goings

observe how
endings become beginnings

vier en deel mijn leed

hak de taart in stukken,

splits alle toehappers hét stuk
van de avond in de maag

zoals dit vers - brood - mijn
lichaam is, deze zinsnede

mijn bloed

is that the same moon?

is that the same old springtime,

the same ancient spring?


and is this not my body,

the same body you once knew?

the mind is
its own place,

and in itself,
can make heaven
of hell, and a hell
of heaven

aus
den
traumen
der
frühling
wird
im
herbst
marmelade
gemacht

by not wanting there is calm
and the world will straighten itself

when there is silence, one finds
the anchor of the universe within oneself.