A MIRACLE HERE AND NOW
- ode -
l. Transformations
"The heart entices me to praise in song the metamorphosis
into other bodies"*, the Devil's thread
is wound on a spool for me to entangle it
to turn the tongue giddily
to find a tip on the tip
and in the cube, a cube - infinity
in the circle, a point - the universe
a breeding place for mushrooms, to discover
(before the first roosters crow)
that mysterious trace, perfectly round,
which is the divine mangle in the European fields.
While the wheat is alive it gives man a signal:
get used to miracles
think in miracles.
As if all
is joined from two ends
split in two, inconstant
chaos and cosmos everywhere and forever
a toxic and non-toxic world of doubles
a world conditionally open
released into freedom
to be closer to death
in reality
rather than in theory.
2. Looking for mushrooms
On the fringes of the little forests there is a shadow
it rumbles like thunder, spiritual self-deceit,
it is a glance that looks for something unearthly yet
real
something with a shape, yet monstrously
variable
hallucinating under the gall-nuts
under the pine needles, the thorns, the ferns
beneath ashes and dust.
Yes, every time we go looking for mushrooms
it is a conversation with the demon of transformations
it is a topic out of Ovid, Protheic pleasure
a minute opening of the mind
or an announcement of the powerful face on the other side
of the chasm, the dryad, the illusion
and it happens mostly among those who
think they are on their own
in this world.
Break the scales, God.
The surplus determines the price of people
knowledge thrives on error.
* First verse of the first canto of “Metamorphosis” by Publius
Ovidius Nason (Ovid).
Translated by Ilija Casule and Thomas Shapcott
