Mga handumanan sa langit (Cebuano/Bisaya Translation by Tiara Fernandez)

Memories of the Sky
by Oliver Klauss

I wear the silence
From mother’s gentle palms
The scent of grass untouched
Summer reflecting heaven
In the clear blue horizon
I cross the air mountains
On the path of universe
Maybe there’s a shadow
A tree
Or the ants army
From my grandparents yard
It’s raining smiles and colors
A sign that God loves us
I’m here , you’re here
Touching our hands
Like in a secret prayer

.
.
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Cebuano/Bisaya Translation:

"Mga Handumanan sa Langit"

Akong gisul-ob ang kahilom,
Gikan sa ligdong nga mga kamot sa akong inahan

Ang kahumot sa mga sagbot wala pa makoptan

Gisalamin sa ting-init ang langit
Sa klaro nga asul nga kapunaw-punawan

Niagi ko sa mga kabukiran sa hangin
Padulong sa dalan sa kalibotan

Basin naay anino
Usa ka kahoy
Usa ka kasundalohan sa mga langgam
Gikan sa tugkaran sa akong mga apohan

Nag-uwan ug mga ngisi ug mga kolor,
Usa ka timaan nga gimahal ta sa Diyos

Naa ko dinhi, naa ka dinhi
Nagkinoptanay sa atong isig ka mga kamot
Nga mura ug patago nga nag-ampo

Elos do coração( translated into portuguese by BlueDolphin)

As pontes que uniam montanhas
Ruíram agora...
Assim como todas as correntes
Que nos atavam pelo coração:
Uma nova era
De pranto chegou.


 Heart-related

The bridges between the mountains
Are now broken
And all the chains that
Held us heart-related
A new age has come
For shedding tears

Ang Tahimik na Diyos ( tagalog translation by Joel Mazo)

Ang kalaliman ng impiyerno'y bukas
Naghihintay sa atin
Isang tuldok ng karayom
Ang mga bubog ng langit
Gaya ng mandarayang karagatan
Na tangay ang kaluluwang hungkag
Kung saan
Ang mga barko'y lumubog
Ay maaaninag sa hukay
Hindi ko makilala ako
Hindi ko mahinto ang pagkahulog
Ang aking pagsamba'y nagkukunwaring
Tahimik na Diyos
Na bumulagta sa mga tao


The Silent God

Hell's steep's wide open
Waiting for us
A suture point
Heaven's mirrors
Like a false sea
With a ravaged soul
In which
The sunk ships
Are reflected in the abyss
I can't find myself
Can't stop falling
My religion disguised
Into a silent God
Collapsed over people

Dementia

They've asked me to describe my depression
I always tell them I enjoy it
As much as a bottle of good wine
Or german beer
Although I may also get drunk
At midnight
And sleepwalk
Through your dirty conscience

I fear confusion
There will be a time
Where these feeling are a misfit
A slain second
No more than a abstruse twilight
Sun painting the heresy of colors
Your love
The burden in the abyss

I am the clown now
Laughing and crying
For no reason
I shall clutch every laughter, every tear away
The foot bridge between realms
broken
I love every moment of pain
Mine and yours...

在两件故事之间/Between Two Stories ( chinese translation)

你摆脱我
把天空的衣服
扔到水中
束心劲
在括弧中迷路
方程式
有破碎的心

我记不得
什么带来我到这儿
在这个蛮荒的夜中
在粗糙的星当中
我可能走失了
在两件故事之间
我的和我们的

La poupee tragique /italian version by Patrizia Beatini /picture by Eleanor Boyce

Who stole my sky
Asked deflecting
The doll with no smile
And a pale face
She has never cried so much
Since the funeral
Of her first uttered word
Somewhere beyond
The blindness
Of pure blue eyes

Under the heavy ground
Bells began to ring
In foreign candences
Ever tear being
Both exaltation and burden

Should I paint sadness
In black or white
A dotted line
Electrocardiogram
Of a heart in plaster




 Chi mi ha rubato il cielo?
Ho chiesto di passaggio
alla bambola senza sorriso
un viso pallido.
Lei non ha mai pianto così tanto
fino al funerale,
la sua prima parola pronunciata
da qualche parte
al di là della cecità
di puri occhi azzurri.

Sotto il terreno pesante
i rintocchi delle campane
in straniere cadenze,
non c'è mai stata una lacrima
nè per l'esaltazione, nè per il fardello.

Dovrei dipingere la tristezza
di bianco o di nero
una linea tratteggiata
elettrocardiogramma
di un cuore di gesso

Lace ballet

The army of angels
Whispered innocence
Just like a lullaby
Mother used to sing
In the evening, before bedtime
I  dreamed of  God
Playing the flute
And all the clouds
In a lace ballet
Shed their wings
Children with their wet hair
Dancing in the rain
Violently and tender

Oh, that terrible interview!

'' Do you use a special technique in your poetry?''
No, I am not an engineer.
''Is there anything you hate about poetry?''
Yes, falseness, hypocrisy and putting the pen on paper just for the sake of it.Better use it as a helpful instrument for your enema.
''Do you love your father?
I ''adore'' him as much as he ''adores'' me.
''Oh, you wish him to die?''
Who ? Me? I just wish him to live and ....suffer.
''So, do you trust anyone?''
Yes, the mirror
''Do you love anyone?
Sure, myself, ain't I perfect?!
''Have you ever been in love''?
Yes, by a heart surrounded with an electric fence.
''Do you believe in ghosts? Do you fear them?
No, neither do I in humans. I just fear myself.
''Describe life in 2 words....
Terrible execution
''Is there anything you've learned from people?
Absolutely .....nothing!
''Are you thankful to people that like your poetry?
Should I? First of all, I write for myself, as a healing process, cleaning my soul-sometimes words hurt as much as a scalpel cut, no anesthesia  needed.Let's just say I appreciate them reading and ''understanding'' it.
''Do you write about your past, present, future?
I write about anything that impress me. I mostly write about memories, as ghosts hunting me, as I am unwillingly stuck in the present, and future is yet to come.
''Thank you , hope you enjoyed''
To be honest, I didn't, but well, if you asked, I am always honest, yet quite ironic, ain't I?