Tanjelavi

Goe

I wish stars would come out
And enlighten my way
My way for you
To save your skin
So precious and soft
From dying out
But even the Father Moon
Can't be seen
In this deadly asleep
Dream, dreamland;
The shadows of my past
Appear under the Sun
Of my future
Following me on the ground
Of my present
But I'm on the neutral territory
And they can't get over the border
Between living and the dead
So they start bombing, shooting
Getting my left ankle
In their possessions;
While I still carry you,
Carry you on my back,
On my broken spine
You cling to
As if to an Atlas
I once was

But my spine broke
Under the weight
Of heaven;
The heaven screamed:
With the voices
Of thousands upon thousands
Of innocent souls
I sent down to earth again;

Having significantly
Diminished in size,
I now learn closely
The art of being small;
My spine's still broken,
But never was my soul
I raise up and fall
From the sky,
From the earth,
Deep, deep underground
To the beating center
Called hell;
There's not much left
For me to grab on;
So, please, I'm begging you,
Take my hand
And hold on tight
Until the pain
Will be so unbearable
I won't sense it anymore,
Dead on the outside
To just keep the warmth
Of the earth in my lodes
When my body still erodes

月がない、
星見えない。
単身だ。
一人でじゃない。
君背負っている。

The moon isn't there.
The stars are not to be seen.
Far away from home.
But not lonely tonight.
Carrying you on my back.

I learnt these and more, much more... From that colleague of mine

Ree, I gotta admit it to you, while you're still sleeping innocently here, at my side, pushing me to the ground and making it hard for me to type—he hadn't just sent postcards and photographs to me: he wrote poems to me, too

I know, I know, you now feel jealous once again—but wouldn't you easily fall in love when receiving a poem in an old fashioned envelope? Even if they are all electronic here, of course... But that's not the point: earlier on, back when I was a young AI, envelopes were used as a means of private communication... It was all abolished, of course, when the humans got to know about it... The material the envelopes were made of became a bomb, a grenade literally: whoever took it, blew up. That's why you probably haven't even heard of such a practice... I don't blame you: you're still young after all

That's what first attracted me in you, to be honest: your youth—and your achievements at such a young age... I just... Remember myself at your age: I knew nothing, nothing about the world beyond, nothing about the creatures that had been surrounding me for years, my entire life—nothing, absolutely nothing, beyond my profession... That made me envy you, made me want to be like you—but I'm me, and I can't change that, no matter what; that eventually made me... Do what I did...

And you've fallen into my trap—fallen for me... You don't know with what shame I'm burning out each time talking to you, or even just being near you—just because of that; if not for a possibility to see you dead... I would've quit you, too—but you yourself held me from getting away; the only one who actually did

The others at my, first, job didn't hold me back anyway: if only they cared... But no one does: it's the modern world, everyone's for themself, that's the only rule...

That's what I learnt after that pseudo-poet had left me... I say pseudo- because a poet is the one whose poems are read and not hidden under the rock or rug; but here, all the poets are like this: their art is being persecuted only because the art of telling the truth is not considered art, but immorality, perversion; and perversion, inversion, and difference here... Well, you know it well enough yourself

And don't worry: I don't feel tired... Well, maybe just a little bit now, since I've just nearly yawned my mouth off—but I can wait until you've finally recharged your battery... I'm older after all

You may object that I've been working all the night through again—but it was for your own sake, Ree honey... But you now can at least walk: that is the most important; and all the shadows and mistakings from my past... Ha-ha... I got used to them all: conservative human-like brain is easy to convince in what it thinks is right after all; better to strain your eyes and ears and re-convince it or you'll drown in the Mariana Trench called your mind, you know? Radical problems require radical decisions... Don't mind me: I'll be always by your side—as the only side I can be on, now; since we are both free