Стихи Чарльза Бернстина в переводах Яна Пробштейна

Charles Bernstein
Lost in Drowned Bliss

"Things are what they are, but we are never
what we are, " she said as she wrapped the sand-
wich in plastic and tucked away the tears
in a flute.
"No it’s things. They hourly
change before our eyes while we stay stuck in
who we are and where we have been."
"Things are
solid; we stumble, unglue, recombine."
"Or what we see is no more a part of
us than the baby who beckons from the
forest: we splinter in the void to catch
the light, then hail the sparks as paradise."