It's poem time....
Jan. 3rd, 2011 05:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
frau_germaniaThe Lost Western Woman
By Xenia Bakran Sunic
Distant fire always tinges
At the mysterious abyss of existence.
The maddening lightness
Of the eastern sun rising
Puts its daily spell on us.
It appears like a treason to my race
To talk about Eastern Beauty
With such depths of love unheard!
The heaviness of subtlety unmeasured
Weighing somber on your soul
For the love of that Eastern Beauty
Sounds unsurpassable with the sufferings
Of the young Werther .
Modern thrills so cheaply white!
Who are you? — A forgotten dragon or god
Who keeps memories of time abysmal blood deep
Where burning fires never die out
And you keep your Eastern Muse of music
So delicately in the warmest sleep.
Poor beauty of the woman of the West
Fallen in the shallowness
Of her breast’s white consciousness
Poor her soul without sources of fiery flow
The rivers wide and deep,
Extinguished fires of her long memory
Watery, bloodless veins murmur
Through the weakness of her too light,
Too white, too naked bodily beauty,
Brought through the artistry
Of conjuring from the east
Lifeless goddess in disguise.
Oh, raise you goddess
From the distant ashes
Primeval voices deep
Enthrall the man of your race
Weave again mellifluous music
In his prolonged sleep.
To feel the sweet balm
On his heavy sores
Might it stir his lost heart in darkness
Of his endless arduous fight
To obliterate his manhood
Just to please your trivial woman’s rights.
Transparent blue-eyed,
Blood thinned out woman,
So in love with your actual self
Forgetting your man
Is swerving and falling apart
In his search of his lost shadows
And hot blooded roots,
That melt the body
Like in some mad orgasmic orgy
Forging emotions that pierce the heaven
He is looking for a woman elsewhere
—in the far eastern land of the friendlier sun
Where the resounding voices
Remain mysterious
And his black eyed Muse
Inspirationally illusion deep.
Hail, the woman of the West!
Blind and deaf to alluring sounds
Of the mysterious dark voices
Enthralling your man’s lost manhood
In the desert of the magic sands,
While her Eastern unpretentious charm
Seduces him in her soft skin and satin breast.
By Xenia Bakran Sunic
Distant fire always tinges
At the mysterious abyss of existence.
The maddening lightness
Of the eastern sun rising
Puts its daily spell on us.
It appears like a treason to my race
To talk about Eastern Beauty
With such depths of love unheard!
The heaviness of subtlety unmeasured
Weighing somber on your soul
For the love of that Eastern Beauty
Sounds unsurpassable with the sufferings
Of the young Werther .
Modern thrills so cheaply white!
Who are you? — A forgotten dragon or god
Who keeps memories of time abysmal blood deep
Where burning fires never die out
And you keep your Eastern Muse of music
So delicately in the warmest sleep.
Poor beauty of the woman of the West
Fallen in the shallowness
Of her breast’s white consciousness
Poor her soul without sources of fiery flow
The rivers wide and deep,
Extinguished fires of her long memory
Watery, bloodless veins murmur
Through the weakness of her too light,
Too white, too naked bodily beauty,
Brought through the artistry
Of conjuring from the east
Lifeless goddess in disguise.
Oh, raise you goddess
From the distant ashes
Primeval voices deep
Enthrall the man of your race
Weave again mellifluous music
In his prolonged sleep.
To feel the sweet balm
On his heavy sores
Might it stir his lost heart in darkness
Of his endless arduous fight
To obliterate his manhood
Just to please your trivial woman’s rights.
Transparent blue-eyed,
Blood thinned out woman,
So in love with your actual self
Forgetting your man
Is swerving and falling apart
In his search of his lost shadows
And hot blooded roots,
That melt the body
Like in some mad orgasmic orgy
Forging emotions that pierce the heaven
He is looking for a woman elsewhere
—in the far eastern land of the friendlier sun
Where the resounding voices
Remain mysterious
And his black eyed Muse
Inspirationally illusion deep.
Hail, the woman of the West!
Blind and deaf to alluring sounds
Of the mysterious dark voices
Enthralling your man’s lost manhood
In the desert of the magic sands,
While her Eastern unpretentious charm
Seduces him in her soft skin and satin breast.