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The Kitten
Temptation
D.C.
Birthday
Europe
Arrividerci
Occhi
Niños al Poder
LÓUBLI
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Who
is Péter Backes?
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Peter Backes was born 11.12.1939 in Trier.School-leaving
examination 1962 in Bad Homburg/Taunus. He studied English
and Romance languages and literature in the Philipps-University-Marburg
from 1962-1969. He lived in Marburg till 1972. Since
1973 he had been working in the library for psychiatry
and neurology of the Giesse clinical centre up to his
retirement in 1999.
His e-mail address: PeterLukacs@aol.com
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Niños
al Poder
Todos los dîas
es Navidad
el mazapán
de la repostería
de Toledo
sin batir
El pesebre
clara de huevo
almendras molidas
ralladura
de la piel
del limón
azucar
la voz se carrio
Hodie, hoy en dîa
Durante todo el año
LÓUBLI
La plainte
de tes ombres,
quand le jour
aux tentacules
de feu dàcier
se plaît à percer
mes veines.
se fait moule
de larmes pétries
au souvenier
de ton enfer
d´absence.
Je voudrais saisir
le fil de sable
se ´erobant
en douces empreintes.
Il ne mereste
que d`embrasser
la lame
de vagues promesses,
salées de ton sourire.
La nuit tombante,
la lune trop pâle
va tôt bercer mes rêves
de plaie.
Ton chant se tait
en cicatrises de roses.
(Peter Lukáts-Backes :22.06.1983 12 H, bibliothèque.)
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Nada
La bestia cayò de bruces
Al cerrar la noche
Fue un artiilugio
La cosa está encarrilada
Topero, monogamia
Univitelino Decado de maldades Dedalo, dedeo
Dedicación Anciano decrepito
Lo sé al dedillo Nada.
Für Herr Amend
Péter Lukáts-Backes
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Temptation
At night,
when lying low,
my fire´s tongue
is dreaming of licking ambush
to explosion.
Fierce and beastly
under cover
of slow ashes
craggy arms are
reaching
for extinction
in seething bushes`gap.
The Virgin´s lake
unruffled
by the Viper´s
wisper.
Her bosom heaving
with a dream´s suggestion,
and a spider`s anguish
curling in her lap.
Giessen,14.04.1984
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To Nahid
Birthday
I was born to conquer you
Agusta Treverorum
I´m on my own and without you
I´ll die without decorum.
Dear girl, I want to woo
unknown islands in the sun,
don´t you know, life is a zoo
with rabbits, kittens on the run.
Tigers´eyes, no beer can match
the taste of your unknown kiss…
the hunter´s rifle, you wan´t catch
the cold of shots that miss
the vinegar of blood-shot eyes.
I´ll be the friend that ties
the heart to stillborn lies -
Lord of the Flies.
I´ll teach you words of bliss….
(Quartier Médical, after midnight) 22.05.1999
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Arrividerci
Mago col colletto senza rughe,
poesia, tre colori
addentrando nel succo di friori,
nella rupe senza fughe.
Bambino santo, vino caro,
botte incastrate, snelle
col fuoco spento e amaro
mentecatto nella pelle
del ritratto casto, puro
vergine nascosta fuorimoda,
cuore mio pell`amico duro -
sangue nel centro della coda.
Pulpo denso, marinero,
faccia tosta all´altare,
amore, cupo, cuore vero:
Luca, voglio valicare
le finestre sulle bare.
Giessen, 20.05.1999
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To Christiane
TheKitten
Mousepad, kitten all alone
On the Rambla, Barcelone.
Your tears are woe-begone;
A track of catkins, bees of stone,
The shipwrecked diary to hone, fledgeling sparrows that are
prone
to lose the colour of your own
handicap, a ring of bone -
etching spider, lest no tone
be marring voices on the phone.
God will save you whilst the Son
of Mary folds apart
in less than seconds of the past.
The hiccup of my art
is spelling love at last.
Eden`s hellish angel won
over to the tears that run
in a trickle, cool, in wombs
of daring fear of deadly tombs -
drawing-bridges, pallid grooms…
Kitten, flawless, stalking in my rooms
of yonder nights homespun in their mourning
on the string of puppets`silver-awning:
younger days of light are awning:
Carpe diem witout warning!
21.05.1999
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To nobody:
D.C.
Are you ready, dearest girl
to share your time with me?
Lo, heaven´s thrill will soon unfurl
the sails of liberty.
You are the starfish in a sea
of knighthood easily betrayed.
And if you now can´t live with me
freedom´s reign will be delayed.
Whenever moontide, bright and shy
is ushered in or out;
You´ll ask my nephew, why
the angels cry so loud.
Friends and brothers are so rare, girlfriends, whores galore…
Meeting you, my Vanity Fair,
is all I´m striving for.
Dach-Café, 22.05.1999
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Europe
Sisiphe,
roule ton áme
en épousant mes
trucs
sur une goutte, les ducs
chevauchent et brisent les lames.
Une
toubib, une Phénicienne
prépare en toute silence,
les chefs-dòeuvresen France
pour les paumés du casque de Vienne.
Je m`adresse aux matelots
qui dans
la Guerre de Trente Ans
ne mourront pas, mais bientót
renversent les murs de Jéricho.
Au revoir, un noyau dur
l`archéologue du sang pur.
Bourré et igue, quel mouvement
de l´éther, je m´écarte du testament.
Tremplin et lÉuro, méme si les cassandres
méxorcisent en cherchant la liberté
dans les ormes et les calandres.
Je te suis, Blanche-Neige, ma nouveau-née.
(
Peter Lukáts-Backes)
Occhi
Maria, Santa Vergine
primavera sei per la mia anima
cresci a vista d´occhio
col tuo Bambino eterno
che porti nel grembo innocente
com´un frutto sempiterno
com´un fiore sempreverde
Gesù crocefisso pei peccati mundi
nei toi occhi rotondi
muoio singhiozzi profundi
non perdono d`occhio
i pellegrinaggi di Pinocchio
(Osnabrück,21.06.1999)
Occhi
Maria, Santa Vergine
primavera sei per la mia anima
cresci a vista d´occhio
col tuo Bambino eterno
che porti nel grembo innocente
com´un frutto sempiterno
com´un fiore sempreverde
Gesù crocefisso pei peccati mundi
nei toi occhi rotondi
muoio singhiozzi profundi
non perdono d`occhio
i pellegrinaggi di Pinocchio
(Osnabrück,21.06.1999)
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