From time to time I commit something literature alike, so this is one of the texts I wrote some time ago and recently translated:
At Snow Queen's
The clacking noise of high heels once
bounced – gets back
Before a cool breath fights the way
through the furry barricades
Before it'll freeze into the icicle
garlands at the top of the ceiling
It is not true I've got an empty house
– I'm a queen after all
I spared no expense in getting
furniture: chairs, armchairs, couches,
chaise lounges, tableware, golden
fittings and handles
Why did you pull your hand back then?
'Cause there's no fire place?!
But there are the mirrors instead –
Their Highnesses Crystals
Frozen in the beauty and perfection
The clacking noise of high heels echoed
from all the walls
As a cry of despair runs towards the
windows
Where the panes of Venetian glass
brightly shine
It's not my fault, so what was that all
about then?
The carpets made the fragile icy floor
melt
And you didn't have follow me, you
know,
I've never forced you to do anything
I'm not bad, maybe just a little tired
and deafened al ready
But I was glad, seriously, I was really
glad
There was nothing to be afraid of,
wasn't it?
You knew so well what to do, learning
quickly
To sit only on the couches, do not take
your shoes off
When you're rearranging the mirrors and
silvers
Somehow that clacking noise of high
heels was getting quietened down
as well as my migraine
and that annoying ringing of icicles
startlingly played along the sound of
forks, suddenly broken glass, sheets of
paper strewn all over
How did she guess? Did she figure it
out by herself? Or was it because of the shine?
And why did she come here, anyway?
The migraine tears apart my head
and the clacking noise of high heels
bounced once
with the unbearable tempest, strikes me
down
