• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Author Archives: babylon crashing

that kind of fun

13 Monday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Erotic, Illustration and art, Poetry, Translation

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Armenian translation, art, cunnilingus, Poetry, slot as metaphor for cunt, that kind of fun

that kind of fun

Ես թողնում եմ, որ հաճելի է ծննդաբերության ու մայրերին.
Ես լսել նման գեղեցկությունը.
Հուր մաշկի եւ մազերի.
Ա մազոտ բնիկ.
Ուտում եմ ձեր մազոտ բնիկ.
.
I’ll leave that kind of fun to childbirth and mothers.
I’ve heard of such a beauty.
Glow to skin and hair.
A hairy slot.
I’m eating your hairy slot.

wet with rain

13 Monday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Erotic, Poetry, Translation

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cunnilingus, Poetry, wet with rain

 

Այսպիսով, մենք ժամանել.
Բայերի.
Տարածումը ուրախություն.

Ձեր առաջին ճիչը.
Ձեր աշխատանքային բառերի.
Համբուրեց, ուտում են, սպառում.
Թավշյա ուրախություն, թաց, ինչպես անձրեւի տակ
.
So we arrived.
Verbs.
Spread the joy.

Your first cry.
You are the words.
Kissing, eating, consuming.
Velvet joy, wet with rain.

of the three

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in self-portrait

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this terrible fate

of the three

This dream … I dream of this every single night, being washed over the side of a ship and having the goddess of the waves, a shadow from the deep masquerading in the skin of great white shark, swallow me whole … for the last ten years when I dream. If I dream. I wrote this for my master’s thesis:

Of the three – Hart Crane,
Li Po and me – Li died
moon viewing in the dark.
Crane drowned at 3
and I was eaten by a shark
– or so they say.

It was true in 2003 when I was in Coos Bay, Oregon and saw a shadow in the waves. Even now I can hear her calling for me. I am a coward for living on dry land. Then I laugh because don’t we all try to run away from our fate? Ai, fate.

esperando mi amor

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Erotic, Spanish, Translation

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Armenian translation, esperando mi amor, Poetry, Spanish translation

 

Mírame. No estoy contento con usted. Si hubieras venido ayer por la noche, hermosa y loca, mi cama estaba esperando. Tus besos eran como una isla en el sol. Tus la leche era de seda y cantaron y rieron. Si hubieras venido ayer por la noche. Si? Sí! Fue.
.
Look at me. I’m disappointed in you. If you had come last night, beautiful and crazy, my bed was waiting. Your kisses were like an island in the sun. Your cum was silk and sang and laughed. If you had cum last night. If? Yes! Was.
.
Նայիր ինձ. Ես դժգոհ ձեզ. Եթե դուք եկել անցյալ գիշեր, գեղեցիկ եւ խենթ, իմ անկողնում էր սպասում. Ձեր Համբույր էին նման կղզու արեւի. Ձեր կաթ էր մետաքսե ու երգում ու ծիծաղելով. Եթե դուք օրգազմցի անցյալ գիշեր. Եթե. Այո. Էր.

more difficult than the moon

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Erotic, Spanish, Translation

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Armenian translation, language is a virus, Poetry, Spanish translation

 

El lenguaje es más difícil que la luna.
Es más fácil para los que me muerdas.
Es más fácil para que me mates.
Es más fácil para usted para hacer que me venirse.
Lenguaje ilustra lo que soñamos pero nunca alcanzará.

.
Language is more difficult than the moon.
It is easier for you to bite me.
It is easier for you to kill me.
It is easier for you to make me cum.
Language shows us what we dream about but will never achieve.

.
Լեզու ավելի բարդ է, քան լուսնի.
Դա ավելի հեշտ ձեզ համար կծում ինձ.
Դա ավելի հեշտ ձեզ համար է սպանել ինձ.
Դա ավելի հեշտ ձեզ համար ինձ օրգազմի.
Լեզու ցույց ինչ մենք երազում բայց երբեք հասնել.

dolor por los licor

09 Thursday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Erotic, Poetry, Spanish, Translation

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Armenian translation, art, artist unknown, pity poor liquor, Poetry, Spanish translation

color of memories

dolor por los licor
el sueño de un niño acerca del color de la memoria
nada mas

.
pity poor liquor
the dream of a child about the color of memory
nothing more

.
վիշտ է լիկյոր
հիշողություններըի գույնը երեխայական երազում
ոչինչ ավելի

beautiful sad and lonely hunger

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenian, Illustration and art, Poetry, Translation

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1895, Armenian translation, Edvard Munch, vampire, woodcut

woodcut by Edvard Munch, 1895

woodcut by Edvard Munch, 1895

Քույր, ես մոռացել եմ իմ անունը. Քնած սար ու ձոր մենք դարձանք չղջիկ նման.
.
Սիրուն չանօթենայի՛ք ամայի ու տրտում. Ես մոռացել եմ ձեր անունը, սիրուհի, դուք երբ խեժ ինձ.
.
Sister, I forgot my name. Sleeping in mountains and canyons we became like bats.
.
Beautiful sad and lonely hunger. I forgot your name, lover, when you bled me.

Image

the warrior’s husband (1932)

08 Wednesday May 2013

Tags

Katharine Hepburn, kickass heroine, photo, The Warrior's Husband

Antiope

Katharine Hepburn as Amazon warrior princess Antiope in stage production of The Warrior’s Husband (1932)

Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under photograph

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voch’inch’

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, Armenian, Illustration and art, Poetry, Translation

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Armenian translation, art, Jan Toorop, Karabakh, nothing, Հրազդան, Poetry, voch’inch’

painting by Jan Toorop,1858

painting by Jan Toorop,1858

Ըսէ ինծի՝ ե՞րբ եւ ո՞ւր հոգին մը հավերժ հիշատակին կին պիտի գտնէ. Ես ունեի մի քրոջը. Մենք տեսանք արյան ից Ղարաբաղ. Մենք խմեց են ցաւ ից Հրազդան գետ. Ես ունեի մի քրոջը. Նա կարող էր կրակում է սլաքը, եւ կսպանեն արեւի. Աստվածների թե լաց, երբ նա երգում էր նրան բանաստեղծությունները. Իմ լեռները սիրեց քույրս. Բայց քույրս մեռած. Ոչինչ. Ոչինչ. Ոչինչ.
.
Tell me when and where to find the soul of a warrior woman. I had a sister. We saw blood from Karabakh. We drank from the pain of the Hrazdan river. I had a sister. She could shoot an arrow, and kill the sun. The gods wept when she sang her poems. My sister loved these mountains. But my sister is dead. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Quote

where in your voice

08 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Translation

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indigenousdialogues, Iranian poet, love, Masoud Ahmadi, quote, translation

“Where in your voice
did I lose myself?”
— Iranian poet Masoud Ahmadi

from “This Craving and this Me.”
Translated by Alireza Abiz
(from indigenousdialogues)

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