Moon in Aquarius 

by László Aranyi

 

 

 

 

                                 The opus is more of an indication,

              painted scratchy writing on a rotting tree trunk.

Buddha played like this

 

       (web between his fingers,

living blue-green mud in his mouth)

              on a reed with a shining

 

dewy spider thread. The artist confronts

its own self-governing sign system with the expected.

His imitations are grotesque, woebegone freaks,

 

’cause he can be a pesky clown...

 

He who creates

              creates a legend,

       from which he can be summoned any time as flesh and blood.

 

His works are irrelevant byproduct sets. He hides behind them,

              beyond what can be known

       and intently watches the tiny vibrations of appearances.

 

 

 

(Translated by Gabor Gyukics) 

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