Gábor G. Gyukics
inglés
Ceòl san Eaglais
’S toil leam an coithional a fhreagras gu greannach,
dòchas a’ dìosgail tro bheathannan doirbhe,
’s toil leam còisirean ghuthanna geala,
solas a’ lìonadh àiteachan dorcha;
Ach is annsa leam an coithional nach seinn ach meadhanach –
an salmadair nach buail air na puingean àrda,
an tè a cheileireas os cionn na h-uile,
an t-òrganaiche a thòisicheas air rann a bharrachd;
Oir ’s ann an sin a thèid an gaol a dhùshlanachadh,
eadar àilleasachd is dìomhanas is breòiteachd dhaonna,
’s ann an sin ge b’ oil leam a nochdas am beannachadh –
am fios nach eil lorg air ceòl nas binne.
Thrift Shop Charm
Prickles and yellow. Has seven hands.
Pulling the eyes out.
Piercing stench! Smell of disinfection.
Act natural. Thrift shop for used clothes
by the pound. The colored smell
of poverty is leading the way
across the Chinese market and beyond.
A rubber. Hole in the condom.
Use it, throw it and let there
be a doped out fragrance orgy.
In fainting pleasure – wealth.
Has a chance for an extra season.
Nice skirt – perhaps. But as soon
as the eyes run down, it comes to light
that my tights have an old fashioned style.
It’s fabric is striped. As if it was
its trade mark.
The eye runs, a stripe makes a mark.