Cave-dwellers
All those people, still seated
in their cars, in the afternoon
before it ends, work already done.
One hour, two, three.
They wipe their sweaty hands
on pants, or on the seat.
They smoke, and gaze into nowhere.
A feeling of being digested, slowly,
inside intestines, inside other intestines,
inside a Japanese, a Russian, box,
inside the box of God:
packed together in layers, decorated
on the outside with satellites.
And further, further, all is unclear to the eye.
One hour, two.
In no hurry, they ignite their engines
and turn out of forgotten streets.
Translation of “Urviniai” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
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After Work Blues
alone after work
a beer and a thriller
on a motley planet
where I kneel down
and create this picture
for myself:
—through the glass, July weather
cools in twilight, children’s shouts
hang in the air
and a neighbor leads out
her shambling rottweiler
and you
my legend, my myth,
close your eyes
and say:
—open me sleeping
with loving hands
doorman
box-mover
do not distinguish, there in the dark,
you from me
only leave in the morning
through blinds drenched in sun,
loving and strong
— — — — — — —
but—
you fumble your way
to bed
and the planet grows pale
Translation of “Bliuzas ‘Po Darbo'” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
______________________________________________________
Conditions
Again, I come face to face with violence.
You find yourself dialing the number—
pressed into black vulcanite, breathed into.
Yes, I felt remorse, because I killed.
Yes, I felt remorse, because I ate and wrote.
I am too ashamed to help anyone.
All it takes is a whistle to close me up.
To cover me over.
You will get no satisfaction from this.
So I unravel myself from my body,
plastering up a sticky cocoon.
I grow strong for autumn, for blackness.
I clutch at a tree trunk.
But this is just a game.
A game. Because nothing hurts.
Nor any pathos for you—
just laughter, and the stained glass
of wings on a sunny morning.
Translation of “Būsenos” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
______________________________________________________
Interior IV
to Sarah
Awakened in the hush of heaving
cobwebs. Sunlight, plastered
with wet leaves, caresses concrete.
“Your place is like a trapper’s hut,”
she says, “all wooden floors and shadow.”
Coffee keeps me quiet. On her side—
sand cuts salt and clouds. On mine—
cats melt into trees. Later, the airplane
divides us.
Translation of “Interjeras IV” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
______________________________________________________
***
Your transparent fingers—
tiny minnows,
wiggling nervously.
I press them into mine—
clumsy,
thick,
and strong
like the bars of a cage.
Fret and shake.
You won’t get out.
I promise
to feed you,
protect you
and care.
Translation of “Tavo pirštai persišviečia” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
______________________________________________________
Laundromat
So many girls with highlighted hair
folding their underwear
to the drone of laundry machines
neon
and the TV news
Stealthily, I watch
them perform the ritual
baskets full of underwear
scented flesh
So serious
so pretty
and so focused these girls
who don’t know me at all
bending over their brimming baskets
A foreign language
foreign bodies
and foreign me
quickly stuffing
his rags
into the washing machine’s throat
His chest tightening
alone
and completely naked
the Lithuanian poet
Translation of “Skalbykla” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
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***
for I.D.
slick apple dreams
clay pitcher face
split by thirst
by desire
to see you
hands sow the table
cuneiform script
hands handle forms
covered over
washed out
I know—my gaze
betrays me—
betrays you—
drifting away
except in summer when I fly
to the window
and squeeze through the old screen
to you
calm closed eyes
and bite your shoulder
Translation of “glitūs miego obuoliai” by Marius Burokas,
Būsenos. Lietuvos rašytojų sajungos leidykla, 2005.
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Marius Burokas (b. 1977), poet and translator, has studied Lithuanian language and literature at Vilnius University. He has worked as a Lithuanian language teacher, has served as project editor for a public relations agency, has worked in advertising agency and has coordinated literary programs at the Eastern Lithuanian Cultural Centre. Now he is a freelance writer, translator and also writes for cultural internet magazine Bernardinai.lt.
Marius made his debut with the poetry collection Ideograms (Ideogramos) in 1999. His second book of poetry, States of Being (Būsenos), appeared in 2005. His third book – I‘ve Learned Not To Be (Išmokau nebūti) was published this February. His third book was awarded “The Young Yotvingian prize” as a best young poet’s book, published in two years.
His poetry has been translated into Polish, Russian, Latvian, Finnish, Slovenian, English, German and Ukrainian. Some of his poetry is also published in “New European Poets” anthology (“Greywolf Press”, 2008).
Marius Burokas translated poetry of American, Canadian and Australian poets Charles Simic, Walter S. Marwin, Gwendolyn MacEwen, Robinson Jeffers, Robert Bly, James Dickey, William Carlos Williams, Margaret Atwood, Michael Ondaatje, Hilda Doolittle (H.D.), Alan Dugan, David Malouf and others. He is also a compiler and one of the translators of Allen Ginsberg poetry selection “Howl, Kaddish and Other Poems” (2011). He has translated prose of James G. Ballard, Woody Allen, Sherman Alexie, Hunter S. Thompson and others.
In 2001 he participated in International Writing Program in Iowa. Marius is a Lithuanian Writers’ Union member since 2007. He lives in Vilnius. E-mail: burius102@yahoo.com
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Rimas Uzgiris’ poetry has been published in Bridges, 322 Review, Lituanus, Prime Number Magazine, The Poetry Porch, and is forthcoming in Quiddity. His translations have appeared in The Massachusetts Review, and are forthcoming in Hayden’s Ferry Review, Modern Poetry in Translation, Lituanus and Two Lines Online. He received an MFA in creative writing from Rutgers-Newark University, where he studied poetry with Rigoberto Gonzalez and Rachel Hadas. He holds a Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. His philosophical monograph, Desire, Meaning, and Virtue: The Socratic Account of Poetry, was published in 2009.