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Three Tzarian Pieces
by Tristan Tzara, translations by Julian Semilian

This translation is dedicated to Gisele Semilian (1907-2000)

Inscription on a grave


And I felt your sad and immaculate soul
Like you feel the moon floating quietly
Behind the drawn curtains.
And I felt your poor and timid soul
Like a beggar, with his hand out before the gate,
Fearful to knock or to walk in,
And I felt your humble and frail soul
Like a tear unwilling to step over the eyelid's doorstep
And I felt your clenched and moistened by distress soul
Like a handkerchief in your hand that tears will
drizzle on,
And today, when my soul would get lost in the night,
Only the memory of you clutches it
With unforeseen fingers of phantasm.

 

 
Introduction to Don Quixote


Flight of nimble and hasty horse was my life
I knew to scour the entire world
Only one girl was dear to me
And I slept till late in the morning

The old horse split up into sections
Which will turn into hands of worms by mice to be chewed
My love: see the learning you don't find in books
Sit quietly by the table and sew

I'll tell you what awaits you down the road
Sew my thought on a silk dress
Until your pupils hurt -- and you'll be a bride
Until my thought will be a book
 
 

 
Fleurs pour Layson

                         (after Tristan Tzara)
 
Long tall Layson, construction girl
Black gown and ermine collar
I fed-ex you flowers because:
                                             you're an artist and you:
Make silver rings with your fingers!

And because you wear burgundy boxer shorts of silk
And once you told me you went to dominatrix school

You're tall in the hall with a lily in your hair
Sheer pantyhose the kind I've seen on Salvadorian girls
And doesn't entrance on them but enraptures
On you partly I think because the hall is lit by candelabras

Long tall construction girl I hand you my
Soul.

Paint it chartreuse like a chair with little yellow
Daisies and violet gladiolas but make sure
You don't breathe in the paint it isn't good for you
your health is frail, I heard, then:

Paint me a nimbostratus or ash rocumulus
Cumulonimbus and cotton candy cirrus with rosy streaks
Because clouds are like bed sheets or boxer shorts
When you're tall in the hall in sheer
                                             pantyhose and candelabras

Why don't we have sushi anymore?
Scold me severely if I was disgusting
Then I'll bring you a new sunflower
You're tall and slender you'll put it in water
                                                  serenely by the window
In sheer pantyhose below the candelabras in Catalonian plazas

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