New Year’s Eve 1999

Kiss a Lot of Women

Kiss women.
Kiss a lot of
women.

In the streets of this town
the papers will be hanging one day,
the papers telling
that you don't exist.

However, be aware,

at least one of them
will stop
at those papers,
and she will recall
how you were

kissing her.

Memory

An insane old man
is firing from a machine gun again,
he is throwing the grenades...
Boys are roaring with laughter,
they throw him cigarette ends
into the beer,
but he means it
really seriously.

Pavol Suržin in Slovak Paradise

Pavol Suržin in Slovak Paradise,
already unbodied,
is lightly measuring the morning pathways,
is whistling by vocal cords of birds,
he is fine,
he is so fine,
already unbodied and painless
he is climbing the ladders,
the bridges of foams,
he crosses the river Hornád,
he is smiling from the blueness

of cornflowers.

Mirror

I see in the mirror
that I'm getting older.

Or is it my death
growing
younger?

Where Are You Going

A child was not woken up by the morning bus,
nor by a bulldozer,
not even by dustmen.
But when it heard a silent rustle
of dressing the clothes,
it suddenly opened the eyes,
and asked: Where are you going?

 

Radovan Brenkus

Poetry of Hudák is about seeing the crazy music, about restless, torturing nights, desperate night phone calls with an unknown voice, about searching for water in times of greatest thirst as well as about boozing, so that nothingness as a first-hand experience could get a man out of lethargy, so that it would be somehow possible to experience the happiness. Poet as an observer turns everything upside down, and even if he paralyzes the readerʼs expectations, he leads him to catharsis just like Kahloʼs paintings, in which the modifications of particularly pessimistic backgrounds show the innocence of likeliness, inability of having a sovereign control of own inside – and in this way the poetry par excellence is created.

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