Jel Színház | Teatrul Jel | Theatre Jel
HU__________________________________________________________________
Gyagyás vagyok mint Wilhelm
de nekem szavam sincsencsak foszlányok foszfiúk
isten is gyakran kirúg
én meg csak „captatok” cap-
osonok a ki mennyit kap
kérdéssel
a hátsóudvar felé
gyakran megbomlik a forma
talán a fennvaló sem tudja
miért kell nagybetűvel írni
a mondatkezdő szót és a neveket
jó lenne tudni hogy sírt vagy nevetett
az isten mikor ilyen formává gyúrt
de mostanában olyan mogorva az öregúr
hogy nem merek kérdezni semmit
egyszer meglesném
ő hogyan caplat
hány és hány angyal cipeli
s ha nyílna erre a látványra egy ablak
az tiszta lenne vagy pacával teli
RO__________________________________________________________________
Sunt nebună ca Wilhelm,
Dar eu nu am nici măcar cuvinte,
Doar scame
Și dumnezeu mă concediază adesea,
Eu doar țopăi și alerg
Întrebând cu ce am să mă aleg
spre curtea din spate
de multe ori se destramă forma
poate nici cel de sus nu poate afla
de ce trebuie scris cu majuscule
cuvântul de la începutul propoziției și numele
ar fi bine să știm dacă râde sau plânge
dumnezeu când mă formează în acest chip
dar de la un timp bătrânul domn e atât de mohorât
încât nu îndrăznesc să întreb nimic
într-o zi l-aș pândi eu
să văd el cum țopăie
câți și câți îngeri îl cară
la aceasta vedere dacă s-ar deschide o fereastră
ar fi curată sau plină de pete
EN__________________________________________________________________
I’m nutty like Wilhelm
But I’m out of words
Only fragments and fragwoments
God often splurges, too
And I’m just sploshing
And sneaking with the question who’s receiving
How much
Towards the backyard
Shape’s often disrupted
Maybe the high and mighty doesn’t know either
Why we have to capitalize
The first word and the names
It would be nice to know whether he cried or cracked up
God, when he shaped us from a blob
But lately he’s been snapping
I won’t dare asking him anything.
I’d like a sneak peak
Of how he sploshes
How many angels lug him
And if a window opened to this sight
Would it be filthy or would it be white
But I’m out of words
Only fragments and fragwoments
God often splurges, too
And I’m just sploshing
And sneaking with the question who’s receiving
How much
Towards the backyard
Shape’s often disrupted
Maybe the high and mighty doesn’t know either
Why we have to capitalize
The first word and the names
It would be nice to know whether he cried or cracked up
God, when he shaped us from a blob
But lately he’s been snapping
I won’t dare asking him anything.
I’d like a sneak peak
Of how he sploshes
How many angels lug him
And if a window opened to this sight
Would it be filthy or would it be white
emőke
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