Arial B.

I dare to call myself an artist

[kill-the-angels]

Hi everyone, here is Arial, or @dreimehrparsec

On this subblog I will post my original writings: mostly poems, less often prose. I'm in no way a professional (or systematic) writer, I just do it as a way of letting my thoughts out into the world, at times. I hope you'll enjoy the content and stay here for longer.

DISCLAIMER: writings in languages other than English might (and will) occur, though always with translation.

[kill-the-angels]

Pogoń

Uciekam Choć przecież nikt mnie nie goni Nie widzi

Czy jednak?

Nie chciałem

Nie chciałem?

Przysięgam Minęło, już nie ma Nieważne Nie szkodzi! Niech przeszłość zostanie w przeszłości

Uciekam [Z chmur pada betonem] I nie wiem już nawet gdzie jestem Czym jestem Uciekam czy gonię?

Minęły miesiące A może godzina? Tu czas nie istnieje I świat się zatrzymał Wciąż biegnę na oślep Ścigany przez cienie Dojrzałem w nich twarze A wśród nich i ciebie

Na Boga, nie chciałem Lecz to bez znaczenia

Ciebie przecież tu nie ma Nikogo już nie ma A jednak Wciąż jesteś Podążasz Pamiętasz?

…przeklęta!

Zostaw mnie w spokoju! Nie goń! Nie nękaj

/// Kwiecień 2023

Tomu NIESKOŃCZENI część druga

TRANSLATION:

The Chase

I flee Though no one's really after me No one sees me

Or does someone?

I didn't mean to

Or did I?

I promise It's all over now It doesn't matter Nevermind! Let the past stay in the past

I flee [It's raining concrete from the clouds] And I no more know where I am What I am Do I flee or hunt?

Whole months have since passed Or maybe an hour? Time has ceased to exist The world has stopped I keep running blindly Followed by shadows Among them, I saw faces Among faces your face

By God, I did not mean to But it doesn't count

After all you're not here No one is anymore And still You are You follow Remember?

You damned…!

Just give me some rest! Don't chase! Don't harass

/// April 2023

Of the series THE INFINITE ONES part two

[kill-the-angels]

Extended Picture of a Bridge

Last night I dreamt about three villages among the hills. The one in the middle bore a foreign name you could roughly translate as Plague – the names of the other two have fled my memory since, but it is not of great importance. The village on the right, as seen from a distance, possesed a small canyon on its outskirts. Atop stood the wooden remains of what appeared to had been a bridge once connecting the two banks – construction now deserted, deprived of purpose, bound to vanish off the face of Earth in the next five to ten years, if not by man's hands, then on the principle of ruthless nature reclaiming its property. Frost. Precipitation. Winds of high velocity. Landslide. Structural decay. Small animals sharpening their teeth on wooden bars. Rust devouring screws. Sunshine. Rapid fire. The hills were mostly treeless, naked; buildings lay spread among the terrain, inappropriately colourful in such dull, monochromatic surroundings. I think the wind was blowing. The wind would be blowing in this type of a vision. If you had practiced enough cause-and-effect thinking you could foresee the three villages sharing the fate of the old bridge at some point in the future – though possibly not yet in our lifetime.

/// April 14, 2026

[kill-the-angels]

Apostrofa do

Gdy ty byłaś przy mnie, świat był jakiś inny O niebo jaśniejszy i jakby mniej zimny I nic nie znaczyły czarnych ruin plagi Tak wszystko to było niewarte uwagi

Kiedy spoglądałem w oczy jak z hebanu Już nie było bólu i nie było strachu Brzmienia głosu twego w marazmie słuchałem Jak z gwiazd kołysanki – i już się nie bałem

Pomyśleć, że kiedyś ciebie kochałem

Gdy ty byłaś przy mnie, ja byłem prawdziwy Wierzyłem w dni złote i w światy na-niby Tak bardzo odległe, a nam tak znajome Choć, zawsze wiedziałem, nie dla nas stworzone

Stanęliśmy kiedyś gdzieś w wyśnionym kraju Na skraju przyszłości, na przedpolach raju W tej chwili przeklętej nie odpowiedziałem Nazajutrz w rozpaczy z głowy włosy rwałem

Pomyśleć, że kiedyś ciebie kochałem

Ty byłaś nadzieją, niczym urojeniem Skrywanym głęboko piękniejszym pragnieniem Musiałem zatrzymać, jak wykuć w krysztale Upewnić me serce, że będziesz tu stale

Lecz wtedy odeszłaś, zabrałaś wspomnienia I rysy twej twarzy, i twoje marzenia Czerwienią krwi twojej na niebie spisałem W pudełku zwięzione, wśród olch zakopałem

Pomyśleć, że kiedyś ciebie kochałem

/// Luty 2023

Tomu NIESKOŃCZENI część pierwsza

TRANSLATION:

An apostrophe to

With you by my side, to me, seemed this world A whole lot brighter and somewhat less cold The seas of black ruins could as well be ignored All of that was just not worth the afford

When I looked deep into your ebony eyes All pain and all dread would vanish at once Enchanted I listened to the sound of your voice Like a stellar lullaby – to fear was no choice

To think that I had loved you once

With you by my side, for once I could live Trust in better days and worlds made-believed So faraway from us, and yet known to each Although I knew, always, not for us to reach

We once stood together in some fairyland On the brink of the future, at the heaven's gate In that goddamn moment I failed to declare The next day I plucked my hair in despair

To think that I had loved you once

You were my hope, as delusion revealed More sublime desire profoundly concealed I had to preserve you, from golden thread weave Promise to my heart you would never leave

But then you departed, along with your dreams And your facial features, all your memories I wrote down in the sky with the red ink of blood In a sealed box I buried amongst alder trees

To think that I had loved you once

/// February 2023

Of the series THE INFINITE ONES part one

[kill-the-angels]

Powrót (Nysa)

Myślałem, że to nieprawda Myślałem, że to nieprawda Ale mleko już wykipiało Kości zostały rzucone

Nie jestem pewien, co właściwie się stało

Nikt tego nie przewidział Tak nagle, w mgnieniu oka Błękitne niebo pociemniało Sięgnęło ku ziemi Mackami absurdu Objęło nasze miasto, a z nim twój dom A przynajmniej tak mi powiedziano

Być może nieba w ogóle nie było I nie będzie

Stoję na wietrze Przede mną i za mną aż po horyzont Rozciąga się czarne morze bez dna Nieruchome Zamiast wody atrament Tuż pod matową taflą – zdaje się – ktoś żyje Choć wzrok mój i dłonie nie zdołały go dosięgnąć

Czasem myślę sobie, że gdzieś tam, na dole Po drugiej stronie Istnieje inny świat

Gdzieś, gdzie nie jest jeszcze za późno Gdzie niebo pozostało niebieskie A twój dom stoi na swoich fundamentach

/// Wrzesień 2024

TRANSLATION:

The Return (Nysa)

I thought it's just not true I thought it's just not true But the milk has boiled over The die is cast

I'm not exactly sure what happened

No one has predicted that Suddenly, in a blink of an eye The blue sky darkened And reached to the ground With its tentacles of absurd Embraced our city and your house too Or at least that's what I'm told

Maybe there was no sky at all And never will be

I'm standing in the wind In front of me, behind me, up to the horizon Stretches a bottomless black sea Motionless Instead of water full of ink Right beneath the matt surface – it seems – someone lives Although far out of my sight and hands' reach

I sometimes believe, that down there, under On the other side A different world exists

Somewhere, where it's yet not too late Where the sky remained blue And your house still stands on its foundations

/// September 2024

[kill-the-angels]

I don't wish to die

I'd rather watch the birds in the sky The flow of a river The cars passing by The Milky Way on a cold, starry night A light in a window And tears in the eyes I'd rather watch these I don't wish to die

I'd rather listen to the rustle of leaves To the barking of dogs To the sound of machines To the voices of people, no matter how raised To a clock on a wall To a song badly sung I'd much rather hear these I don't wish to die

I'd rather feel the sand on my feet I'd rather smell roses I'd rather feel heat I'd rather get lost on my way through the town And dance in the rain Than lie in the ground I would rather live

I just wish, sometimes I wish that the world Would end overnight

/// October 21, 2025

[kill-the-angels]

Alive and Insane (excerpt)

I wish I could take you away To a place far away Where we could be just the same Both as alive as insane

I wish I could turn back time To the days left behind When we were alive and insane To feel the same way once again

/// 2021 (or earlier), as a part of an unfinished song

[kill-the-angels]

Tren XX

Na imię miała Hania Hania Niekochana Umarła Jednak nie ona pierwsza

Nigdy pierwsza nie była Nigdy nie ulubiona Nigdy nie najważniejsza Zawsze ta druga Pomniejsza

Od kiedy zjawiła się Ona: Cud Skarb Marzenie W pierwszym dniu życia postawiona na scenie Artystka Ponoć mówiła wierszem (Nie była to prawda, ale ojciec nie słuchał)

Tak szybko zgasła Po prawdzie trochę jej szkoda Koniec końców nie zawiniła

Zabrała ze sobą wszystkie łzy na świecie I wszystkie kartki na świecie Zajęło jej epitafium

Dla drugiej (nie pierwszej) zabrakło łez Zabrakło kartek Ledwie skrawek Ledwie słów kilka Parafrazując:

„Pamiętaj Ciebie też kochamy”

/// Styczeń 2024

TRANSLATION + CONTEXT:

Lament XX

Her name was Hania Hania the Unloved She died But she wasn't the first to do so

She was never the first one Never the favourite Never the most important Always the second Inferior one

Ever since She appeared: A miracle A treasure A dream Put on stage from her very first day An artist They said she spoke in poetry (It wasn't true, but father didn't listen)

Soon she faded away And in fact, it's a shame After all, she's not to blame

She took all the tears in the world with her And all the pages in the world Filled her epitaph

For the second one (not first) there were no tears left No pages Just a snippet A few words only Paraphrasing:

"Remember We love you, too"

/// January 2024

Context: a reference to an ongoing joke about a polish Renaissance poet Jan Kochanowski and his daughters Urszula and Hanna, both deceased in their early childhood. The death of the former (an alleged child prodigy) affected the father so greatly he wrote a series of nineteen elegies (called Treny, or Laments) to her, while to the latter he only dedicated a four-line epitaph. Note that: Hania is short for Hanna. Niekochana (as translated to the Unloved) is a word-play, a negation of the family's last name.

[kill-the-angels]

I thought you were a shooting star (to The Pilot)

I thought you were a shooting star The way you lit up skies tonight The way you passed us by, astray The way you quickly passed away

I thought you were an eagle flying high So bold, dressed up in all your might A tiger creeping in the dark So lightly, not to leave a mark

I thought you were an angel in the sky And maybe, sure, you are by now

I thought you were a shooting star That grants a wish before the dawn

/// August 28, 2025 (finished today, at last)

[kill-the-angels]

Fruit Flies

Birds with iron wings Circling over my head like hungry vultures Ready to dive in anytime, to attack I'm going up — I pass them by, leave them behind Sit high among the gleaming stars Look down and laugh:

From here, from above They're nothing but mere fruit flies Buzzing around a city map

They cannot ever reach me here I close my eyes without no fear

As long as I stay here, I'm safe As long as I dream, I remain

/// August 24, 2025

[kill-the-angels]

Transmission (to the New World)

[with "––" to be understood as an interference]

–– that day, the Sun will set for the last time.

An eternal night shall begin.

And we won't be humans anymore, no.

We'll become creatures of the night, killing ––

–– sympathy, nor love, for there will be no feelings left. Only pain shall remain.

And we won't see the light anymore.

We will die as we were born, alone ––

–– once we're gone, there will be nothing left of us, or of this self-proclaimed Monument of the Mankind we've been building for centuries.

Not a trace, not a single ––

–– and when the last creature dies, the Sun shall rise once again. As if nothing ever happened.

[Laughter] Isn't that ironic?

We used to say prayers to the Sun ––

/// June 25, 2025 (based on a draft from 2023)

[kill-the-angels]

Intermediate-Range Ballistic Missile

An intermediate-range ballistic missile fell on my house yesterday It interrupted my eating breakfast And – for God's sake! – broke my favourite mug Spilling the tea all over the floor

In the other room my sister was sound asleep Dreaming about that dog our mother promised to get her for Christmas She was going to name it Caramel

But she never woke up

She never woke up And I didn't wake up either Only the tea dried up Among my favourite mug's shards

It did happen Not to me, maybe Nor to my sister I have never had Nor to my house that stands still

But to someone In one or another part of the globe It did happen Just yesterday

/// January 31, 2025

[kill-the-angels]

*** [we'll sit by the window...]

we'll sit by the window we'll watch the storm coming the darkest skies open the strongest wind blowing

we'll see it take over the world as we know it we'll be left with nothing but each other's hoping

for the days to come after the days of redemption to finally bring forth our longed-for salvation

and yet we'll be crying and yelling, denying for no one has taught us how to handle dying

i wish i could stop this and hold you forever but this very moment is worth more than ever

we'll sit by the window and watch the storm coming once we had a future soon we will be nothing

/// September 2023

Inspired by an illustration from Esquire Magazine from the year 1950 ("Isn't it a beautiful night, dearest?")

[kill-the-angels]

The Thing

Somewhere, sometime, for no actual reason. (who needs a reason?) The reason for existence could be the existence itself. No beginning, no end. Infinity and eternity. Time passes, nothing changes, nothing ever changes. Yet everything is brand new: Unknown, unfamiliar, alien. Doesn't live, never die, just remains. Somewhere… Sometime… Far away and right outside your window. Awaiting… They call it evil, but it is neutral. Objective and just. Unbiased. Awaiting… No need to be afraid.

/// December 2024