Showing posts with label Comte de Lautréamon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Comte de Lautréamon. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Jindrich Styrsky...collage ...Comte de Lautréamont...1939...



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"It was a spring day. Birds spilled out their warbling canticles, and humans, having answered their various calls of duty, were bathing in the sanctity of fatigue. Everything was working out its destiny: trees, planets, sharks. All except the Creator! He was stretched out on the highway, his clothing torn, His lower lip hung down like a soporific cable. His teeth were unbrushed, and dust clogged the blond waves of his hair. Numbed by a torpid drowsiness, crushed against pebbles, his body was making futile efforts to get up again. His strength had left him, and he lay there weak as an earthworm, impassive as treebark. Gouts of wine swamped the ruts trenched by his shoulders' nervous twitches."
  
Lautréamont, From "Maldoror"
     (trans. Alexis Lykiard)


previous Jindrich Styrsky

Styrsky poem > here