TRANSLATION:

Bones:
I'm one of those who preferred the old days
those whose thoughts were not boiling under cloudy water
it becomes a soup and then a dream
assumes the fragrance of alcohol, as I look at my unnaturally sad face in the glass
Sweat running hot on my forehead
My restless self flips a coin
My dazed fate rotates, trying to wear a crown
but on whatever throne she might sit, this weight is intellectually inconceivable
the value stays the same in the mirror that I look upon in dismay
Projections envelop me, astral - but so earthly thoughts
a guillotine is placed at the head that suffers but its heart still beats
disoriented, because I'm bipolarly magnetised
by everything that weighs upon me, everything that, like a charge, directs me to the south
I become an inspiration to those around me
under the sun, sowing tobacco that untethers our conversations
reaping cancer when I withdraw my anti-social calamity;
I do not feel what I think
and any thought that rises, I disrespect like a foe,
a dead end; with a calm pulse, I smile in a never ending march
and set myself on fire in songs, as a cold-blooded protest

Ksorki:
Shattered concepts in fractured surroundings
We were forged in struggle and developed by violence
A disease that has expanded, there is no immunity
That is why when I write it’s not art, but an assault
Dusty relics, broken like promises
Twisted histories with the substance imprisoned in the brackets
A chained infant that is fed injections
Until the cells breed the nemesis that opposes their intentions
A chasm is opened; from the one hand the thirst, and from the other the wound
Some called it a curse and others defined it as a miracle
The night when what was considered a thing developed consciousness
In my thoughts I recombine burnt books and notepads
Shredded by the torch, buried in the ashes of the 1930s
I’m a tumour that relentlessly attacks the walls
Like a vine that mercilessly wraps itself around the columns
The hour-glass signifies the completion of the circle
I set up a Spring Festival with their idols in the scaffolds
The cry of negation- the pain of birth
I became stateless because borders are powerless to halt life’s expansion
The attack is coming- statues of melted materialism
The light that blinds you from the depths of the dark gold
A proposal of tortured love as a correction to hegemonic cynicism
Liberating the endless, forbidden limits
The uncontrolled opposites of a strangled dualism