In My Surreal Dream (Riddle Neo-Modernist Poem) Poem by Marieta Maglas
In My Surreal Dream (Riddle Neo-Modernist Poem)
Irreversibly, the yellow of the sun slips into
the leaves. Placidly, they fall from the Jabuticaba trees to the black
ground. Imperceptibly, I'm falling
asleep near you. There is cold, cold, and
a new autumn enters into my surreal space.
As long as
the leaves are yellow, the life is insecure.
Undoubtedly, my roundland of love is
riddled with hate.Steely,
there is a riddle of
hailstones in this autumnal scent of flowers to break
everything around. Unflappably, I am stronger than steel, when
I have a will to survive. You're still there
behind the waterfall that spreads fear. Panicked, the night
falls when the moon pulses light.
There are shadows in the darkness, and I
cannot find the way out.
Where am I? Where am I?
for many questions there are no answers in life...even when we think we have found the answers still the answer will be eluding us and the feeling in the poem poses questions to leave us baffled....beautiful poem
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/6/2024 4:15:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
I do not consider myself a Surrealist, but I'm fascinated by the poets, artists, provocateurs, et alia that clustered around Andre Breton - a real hero of 20th ART. I have tried to write in the surrealist mode but something in my mind holds back, and Surrealism is all about letting go. // But your poem works as a surrealist text. First, it put me into a dreamstate. I was pulled in by your carefully modulated imagery, this isn't the gaudy, overstated S. Dali-type but more like a Rene Magritte-type in which I could live for a while and experience wonders without fear. Since this was not my dream, I could experience the freedom and spaciousness of your evocation without the panic you feel. Or rather the Dreamer feels, I shouldn't assume the Dreamer is you personally. But the heart of this poem is that the Dreamer may be me this night, or you tomorrow night and we should be prepared to descend, bustle in the dreamworld and then ascend with a new appreciation of the Night. The riddles of Surrealism will nwever be fully understood, but rather they will always haunt us, keep us curious and engaged.