Translation Game – with Josef Janda & Václav Švankmajer

Rules: Write a surrealist translation of poem in a language which you cannot read.

Václav Švankmajer original:

Casi Cline
Prevent Saliva Miscarriage

no cracks present
just skulls to visit predispositions deliriously …

mate radishes
noble and just stands nighttime, an abyss to scare
…a chief just might know me to be lost?

a protozoan acclivity
phlegm precipitates snakes
your cysts escape at the smile

gems invigorate a propeller soon
I serve deathly sin
a tea of names made mine unluckily
and to smile gems cystically to escape

a variety of mists curdle my values and a boon
just lie, quietly of never and a violent separation…

…obviously prevent saliva miscarriage

Steven Cline
Pretty Slovenly Materialization

I am not present
sole skeleton to predisposed elk…

A friend of rats?
Nemo and his nautilus, abyss of scales
…a chattering jump on the minor zephyr

Five preemptive aardvarks
pattering pissing sneezing
they kiss alone in a drooping synth

Jump Valdosta and propagate saturn
I is deva synergy
a toad is not mini musical or unworthy
as do synths jump from sicilian to sky!

a crater misting kids valiant yes and banned

this life, cracked and never animated in the vacuum of space…

…obviously a pretty slovenly materialization

Jason Abdelhadi
Pretty Slobbering Matriarch

No more cracks
Easy sicilian, thou predisposed devil….

More radiation?
Never is the satchel, abysm of sicily
…a cruel “ism” with no more toast?

A pretty avatar
Pliny pacified the snake
Could he but smear it.

If ever a video troll or proper swede
in any situation
approach the muse with krazy kat
and sit down to civilized scones!

a misty crisis of bones

a lid of salt, dragon naked and spatially challenged…

… obnoxious slobbering probable matriarch

True translation of original by Katerina Pinosova:
The First Words of The Dead

I jumped the length you prescribed
exactly to the foot…

does it make you happy?
or you may not have liked that I jumped it
… to be angry with me instead?

in a pellucid aquarium
full of industrious snails
that clean the glass to death

I fully trained myself to fall in
as I did my two sons too
and now I can only keep crying over them
I cleaned that glass to death!

they wallow in mud with doors in place of wings

there are people not even worth being stuffed in a sleeping bag…

…the usual first words of the dead

Josef Janda original:

Steven Cline
Zebra Spots
Don’t see Svengali in Chile
The road is paved with necrophiliac dogs
Nexus of donkey epoch of doom
Notice where the jizz dies in Pisa
Jaundiced or nice man take aim
All zebras see two spots crinkle
Causing nine or ten
Viaducts in the house of the decaying double
Leaving modern and postmodern
Zebra Spots
Pieced together by masters of ceremony
Rejecting vampiric heresies postulated by denial
Touching assertive neurologic animals of poésie

Megan Leach
Ezekiel’s Doubles
From nothing the grey gates
grow and reproduce each others doubles.
Nuanced endocrine systems bending
through prisms of space.
In each slice, another.
the double die cast,
Cured fibers under fingernails.
Sliced and grated
leaving behind loose circles
like spent skins
In Ezekiel’s hands,
the fingers shape a den of shadows
Asserting truths through form.

Jason Abdelhadi
The Crate of Doorbells
They say they never sought civilians
Where kraters by private necrophiliacs jerked off doorbells
Naked and darkness epochal doorbells
Where craters say jizz denies piss steering
Cindy got sick and lips slavered
As apes sat upon the crate
Because tacky denials or mahogany
Vindicate the craters’ naked doorbells
Leave over modern or postmortem
The crate of doorbells
Prehensile variety mastering factories
Prepared for each poster
Trucks asserting nudity and poetry

Casi Cline
Crack Doubt
You see the seven new children
torn by depraved necrophiliacs kneeling in doubt
Naked, say to deceased epochs your doubts
torn by the just death breaking your neck
nice to say new things slavishly
all faces do yield doubts crassly
cozened, take new homes deliberately
vascularity crack kneeling doubt
leave modern postmodernism
crack doubt
penchants vary with masks
prejudices are heady, prostrate things
truly ascertain newness and a poem

Craig Wilson
Double Kraken
Yes, it is a svelte nanny child
The kettle of brave necrophilia double nightmare
Nerdy as the adolescent double donkey
The kettle of fly stalks plays zither
Windy in frozen nanny tap dance
Ear frames it was doubt camp
Because talking nanny isn’t around
Just as double nightmare lightning
Leaves modernity postmodern
Double Kraken
Sings vicarious master plans
Premium cuisine stalks nebulous bug
Protesting vigorously flattened ants versus poetry

True translation of original by Katerina Pinosova:
Age in Short
It seems that there is no moment in the world
in which there would not be some age taking place
Sometimes it is even an epochal age
in which tomorrow is already being written today
another time it is not so grand
but it is favorable toward stealing on the other hand
which after all is not so bad
In short there is always some age
Ice Modern Post-modern
Age in short
Roasted Boiled Greased Smoked
I wish you a nicely fucked-up day
Even in poetry a little assertiveness does no harm

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By | June 22nd, 2017|Categories: Uncategorized|

Paramormyrops ntotom

A new mormyrid has been discovered, “Paramormyrops ntotom”.

Come up with a common name or some hidden characteristics for this curious new elephant fish. What are its Hobbies, birth sign, favorite books, life story? Is it looking for the casual hookup or perhaps something more long term?

Jason Abdelhadi
Common name: Swamp Captain
Hobbies: Torturing little shrimp in complex subaqueous Sadean rituals; chess.
Birth Sign: Doctored Gemini
Favourite books: The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, by Edward Gibbon
Life story: Spent much of its childhood constructing a monument made out of riverine debris into the rough shape of The Elephant Man. A more or less frenzied pursuit of orgasm since then.
Looking for: Someone to taxonomize with. Must have sweat glands and an open mind.

Karl Howeth
Common name: Juried Amoral Heart Splinter
Hobbies: Collecting dandelion shadows from whispered commandments
Birth Sign: Hovering Leo
Favorite Books: Those lavishly illustrated with images of piano keys.
Life Story: Grew up to adulthood in between seizures and an avalanche.
Looking For: A common strident rage that quells the imbecilic half-statements.

Craig Wilson
Common name: Deep Sea Disco Fish.
Hobbies: Spinning and emitting light.
Birth Sign: Pisces/Aries cusp.
Favorite books: The Shadow over Innsmouth, Moby Dick, 10,000 Leagues Under the Sea.
Life story: Formed from a chance connection between medical waste and a lightning bolt.
Looking for: strike teams to seize the beach.

Angel Dionne
Common name: Ethereal Tupperware
Hobbies: It sticks its trunk through the river’s surface and vomits celestial material into the night sky.
Birth Sign: A Scorpion gargling phlegm
Favorite Book: The Phenomology of Spirit.
Life Story: It was born of an agnostic mother and an atheist father. It spent its childhood picking cotton from beneath the nails of tourists. Before long, it had settled into a leisurely life. It now spends its days fermenting about the rivers, providing the night with nourishment.
Looking for: Something to massage its right kidney.

Tori Lion
Common name: Triceratops Sand Dollar.
Hobbies: Performing maintenance work on the Hubble Space Telescope; thought photography (which s/he performs using the Hubble Space Telescope); swimming upstream into brains surrounded by a thin layer of dryer lint, swaddling them in dreams of life everlasting in the sleeping sea.
Birth sign: Born under the sign of Pisces, the soluble fish, obviously.
Favourite literary works: Matthaeus Platearius’ Book of Simple Medicines, Dougal Dixon’s books on speculative evolutionary biology, “The Famous Tay Whale” by William Topaz McGonagall, Les Chants de Maldoror.
Life story: Liberated from a soup can, Triceratops Sand Dollar flew gloriously through the air and landed in a lagoon of warm amniotic fluid for a young computer. S/he occasionally tastes the salted almond-flavoured beach.
Looking for: Someone to watch cheesy TV shows about ghost hunting with.

By | June 6th, 2017|Categories: Games|

Translation Game

Rules: Write a surrealist translation of poem in a language which you cannot read.

Josef Janda original:

Steven Cline:
5 Dinosaur Eggs
Proclaim on the very drizzly land
5 Dinosaur Eggs
A piece of Vlad’s Library card
Is Infecting the halls of paleontology
Perverse mushroom spores
Yes – the glass Dostoevsky is steaming hot
Prevail upon the pataphysician incarnate
No drugstore is equal to your saliva
No hominid is equal to your mother
Voluptuous novel testicular venom now die
No catch river potomac
Protozoa takes six swims with myself, a turd, and bottles of zero
Never was this a drop
Soap and caught in premature volume posture
O Crevasse dripping Dostoevsky see my stale trajectory
Jim is zero technology an opulent curd or kitten

Casi Cline:
a coherent dinosaur
perhaps the single survivor decaying internally
a coherent dinosaur
is pondering the complexity of religion
or doubtless posing for a beautiful paleontologist
picture the obscene sport of it
just as veins are draining rosy life-blood
the prehistoricus needs to know precisely how to look
kill distain surrounding a night of death
so very harmonious and dark and so unctuous
victorious cosmos regenerating the deceased
dispel the death fear totally and envision time ceasing
no vision of destruction remains potent
protect and take blue eyes so none are left behind
never a time descended down
dulcet prehistory casts a violent shadow
or certain villains drain the stars of traction
just a sleep the opiate lids fall closed

Jason Abdelhadi:
Five Cossack Dinosaurs
Pro-chasm Sid poured his beverage outside the window
Onto an expensive dinosaur
Who spoke in the accents of the bourgeoisie.
Although a paleontologist in training
He took care of several doves
But he never dried his throat ruminating such things.
Prewarned of his crime he did what he learned dolphins do
When stuck in a dangerous situation without a breathing apparatus
That is, to burrow a hole into the fossilized bottom of the sea
In the hopes of inseminating a new generation.
Dispelled into a totem of shattered vestements and cash
A trivial shard of pottery from the Titanic
Nothing remained except the museum of turbo vacuum cleaners left running.
A naked mole remarked
That all of the aforementioned could have been easily prevented.
A cherry tractor churned up the fossils and left scuttling in the stars
A stereo teacher opposite a licking curate.

Bruno Jacobs:
In the dinosaurian kitchen
Proclaimed it can be, by-passing druid lichen
in the dinosaurian kitchen,
a slim prize for gliding into the future.
Or double every future paleonthology,
poor sportive scene
as druidic power touches newness.
Foreseeing noses that truly duplicate in the void,
every becoming druid scoffes tomorrow’s duty,
barely hairy, chromed by night to make himself double,
clubbing new generations of druids.
Two druidic hairs total the case of a non-existent neighbor
after Vishnu, the power to come,
rich purpose in the sky which muse belates, handcuffed or not.
Nobody wishes you double
down the stairs in a preventive foreseen youth posture.
I serve you, velvety, druidistically, shaking like a starting tractor;
life is a jealous roof opposing cured leadership.

By | June 6th, 2017|Categories: Games|