• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Category Archives: Translation

pain. little deaths. drowning.

09 Tuesday Jul 2013

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

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

art, drowning, little death, pain, poem, Portuguese translation


Porque eu estou morto. Porque
eu afogou e eu morri de dor. Porque
minha língua é tocando no céu da tua boca.
Porque minha dor é o lua lindo. Porque
minha sepultura a é piscina das oceanos longínquas.
Porque ama seu professor por você ensinar
as coisas mais belas das quais não é ensinado na sala de aula.
Digo-lhe isto. Na fragilidade do amor é isto.
Dor. Pequenas mortes. Afogamento.
Venha aqui. Você está curioso,
e eu estou nua e sempre molhado.

.
Because I’m dead. Because
I drowned and died in pain. Because
my tongue is touching the roof of your mouth.
Because my pain is the gorgeous moon. Because
my grave is a pool of distant oceans.
Because you love your teacher for teaching
the most beautiful things that never get taught in the classroom.
I tell you this. The fragility of love is this.
Pain. Little deaths. Drowning.
Come here. You are curious,
and I’m naked and always wet.

pain little deaths drowning 2

pain little deaths drowning 3

minete and a room full of holes

05 Friday Jul 2013

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

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Tags

cunnilingus, minete, oral sex, poem, Poetry, Portuguese translation

 

Doce a palavra. Minete.
Doce o sal na minha língua.
Desperta, meu sangue.
Negue que me amas três vezes antes do amanhecer.
Perdoai-me porque te desejo tanto.
Doce teu mágica.
Transforme teu esporra em vinho.
Como beato, ajoelho-me entre tuas coxas, irmã.
Minete. Desejo ser bebido.

.
Sweet word. Minete.
Sweet salt on my tongue.
Awake, my blood.
Deny that you love me three times before dawn.
Forgive me because I desire so much.
Your sweet magic.
Turn your cum into wine.
How blessed I kneel between your thighs, sister.
Minete. I wish to be drunk.

X3

X1

Note from author:

There aren’t a whole lot of foreign words in the world for cunnilingus (the English didn’t have one for so long that they had to steal the idea from the French). Minete is one of those words. It’s Portuguese and my dictionary defines it thus:

S.f. (calão) Prática de sexo oral que consiste na estimulação do órgão genital feminino, em especial o clitoris, com a língua ou os lábios. O mesmo que cunnilingus. (Do francês «minet») exemplo de: Afastou-lhe as coxas e começou a fazer-lhe lentamente um minete.

before the storm: poem for lilith

24 Monday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Armenia, Armenian, bibical erotica, Feminism, Illustration and art, Lilith, Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Tags

Armenia, Armenian translation, art, Lilith, Portuguese translation, storm

before the storm 1

Ահա թե ինչ եմ հրաժարվել: խոստումը ծերության, պոեզիայի, սիրո.
Ես չեմ ուզում մի բաժակ գինի.
Բան չկա, իր բյուրեղային խորքերը.
Իմ ափիոն խողովակը վնասվել է:
LSD չի բավարարում.
Քույր. Քույր. Քույր.
Սովորեցրեք ինձ ձեր ալքիմիա.
Ես ուզում եմ իմանալ, թե ինչպես պետք է կատարել մի մոռացկոտություն դեղ, օգտագործելով ձեր կույս-կաթ.
Երեկ ես կենդանի.
Վաղը ես կլինեմ մահացած.

.
Aqui está o que eu vou desistir: a promessa da velhice, da poesia, do amor.
Eu não tenho nenhuma necessidade de copos de vinho.
Não há nada dentro de suas profundezas cristalinas.
Meu cachimbo de haxixe está quebrado.
LSD não vai satisfazer.
Irmã. Irmã. Irmã.
Ensina-me a alquimia.
Mostre-me como fazer um elixir do esquecimento do teus moça-leite.
Ontem eu estava vivo.
Amanhã vou estar morto.

.
Here’s what I’ll give up: the promise of old age, of poetry, of love.
I have no need for a glass of wine.
There is nothing within its crystal depths.
My hashish pipe is broken.
LSD will not do.
Sister. Sister. Sister.
Teach me alchemy.
Show me how to make an elixir of forgetfulness out of your girl-milk.
Yesterday I was alive.
Tomorrow I’ll be dead.

before the storm 2

before the storm 3

monster [monstro]

20 Thursday Jun 2013

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

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monster, monstro, Poetry, Portuguese translation

Acordar o bicho a minha forma usual. Tens sido vida fora o meus desejos escuros. As treva desliza, se desenrola na dentro treva. Este é o meu noturnos. Tua boca em flor; beija-te, beija-te, beija-te. Forma usual.
.
Waking the beast my usual way. You’ve been living off my dark desires. The darkness slips, unfolds within the darkness. This is my night. Your mouth is in bloom; I kiss you, I kiss you, I kiss you. The usual way.

all of us who love the erotic [todos nós que amamos o erótico]

20 Thursday Jun 2013

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

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all of us who love the erotic, Poetry, Portuguese translation, todos nós que amamos o erótico

O teu corpo é um licor em minha boca; água que queima com a minha língua dentro de a têmpora.
O teu leite é um mistério que escorre senhora sensualidade.
Quando criança o erótico me assustou.
Eu carregava a loucura dentro de mim, eu compreendi; um beijo e meu melhor amigo regrediu com o desejo devassa.
Mas isso foi há muito tempo atrás
Hoje eu perder teus mortos mãozinhas.
Eu perder teu louco riso; teu julgamento sobre todos nós que amamos o erótico.

.
Your body is like liqueur inside my mouth; burning water with my tongue inside the temple.
Your milk is a mystery that oozes sensuality.
As a child the erotic scared me.
I carried the madness inside me, I realized; a kiss and my best friend regressed with wanton desire.
But that was a long time ago
Today I miss your dead little hands.
I miss your crazy laugh; your judgment on all of us who love the erotic.

my sister [irmã minha]

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Tags

incest, irmã minha, my sister, Poetry, Portuguese translation, the dead are never satisfied

Irmã morta minha dentro de mim está.
Você entende os mortos?
Se a minha irmã era uma montanha eu era um cactus em chamas, aquecendo sangue dela.
Os mortos não têm casa, e nada pode acalmar seus medo.
É por isso que irmã morta minha dentro está de mim.
Porque eu amo ela.

.
My dead sister is inside me.
Do you understand the dead?
If my sister was a mountain then I was a burning cactus warming her blood.
The dead have no home and nothing can calm their fear.
That is why my dead sister is inside of me.
Because I love her.

dreams of the dead [sonhos dos mortos]

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Tags

dreams of the dead, Poetry, Portuguese translation, sonhos dos mortos

Como faço os mortos dormem?
Eles são feitos de céu e pedra.
O céu não dorme.
Pedras não durmo.
Sempre que a minha irmã sonhou, a grama torcida.
O céu sangrou.
Sonhos da minha irmã definir nossa cama em chamas.

.
How do the dead sleep?
They are made out of stone and sky.
The sky does not sleep.
Stones do not sleep.
Whenever my sister dreamed, grass twisted.
The sky bled.
The dreams of my sister set our bed on fire.

the heat of the beast [o cio da fera]

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Heat of the Beast, O cio da fera, Poetry, Portuguese translation

Você é um deusa do morte,
e eu sou sem pudor sem roupa.
Não me toca.
Eu sou o fogo que os mortos tem de se lembrar.
O cio da fera.
A loucura de uma irmã.
Há alguns incêndios que você não pode matar.

.
You are a goddess of death,
and I’m shamelessly naked.
Do not touch me.
I’m the fire that the dead must remember.
The heat of the beast.
The madness of a sister.
There are some fires you can not kill.

i will not show you mine [não vou mostrar mina para você]

19 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, Portuguese, Translation

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Tags

I will not show you mine, não vou mostrar mina para você, Poetry, Portuguese translation

Estamos todos vimos que de fenda imaculado. Mesmo as crianças vão dizer o que é. Eles vão explicar-lhe por que ele abre e fecha. Ai!, minha contrações, sangue bombeando, minha flor que arde. Vá-se embora. Não vou mostrar mina para você. Minha longos arrepios. O pulso de meu desejo, duros, retesados. Minha curtas contrações. Vida latejando, querendo implodir, ou escoar fora. Vá-se embora. Aquele pequeno fogo, no interior do ferimento de faca, pulsa e repuxa, molha minha boca, pressionado contra o chão da cozinha.
.
We’ve all seen that immaculate slit. Even children will tell you what it is. They will explain to you why it opens and closes. Ai!, my contractions, blood pumping, my flower that burns. Go away. I will not show you mine. My long chills. The pulse of my desire, hard, taut. My short contractions. Life throbbing, wanting to implode, or seep out. Go away. That small fire inside the knife wound, pulsating and jerking, wets my mouth, pressed against the kitchen floor.

once there was a girl who fell in love with a ghost …

18 Tuesday Jun 2013

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

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Tags

art, BBW, blue ghost blues, erotic, ghost lover, phantasmal orgasm, Poetry, Portuguese translation

the girl who fell in love with a ghost 1

there was once a girl who fell in love with a ghost ….
.
Minha amada tem nenhuma de carne, tem nenhuma de pele, tem nenhuma pêlo. Minha amada é lisa como um fantasma. Ele está no jardim. Ele está arrancando as pétalas fora flores. “Ela me ama … Ela não me ama …” Minha amada é azul.
.
My beloved has no body, has no skin, has no fur. My beloved is smooth like a ghost. He is in the garden. He is plucking the petals off flowers. “She loves me … She loves me not …” My beloved is blue.

girl who fell in love with a ghost 3

the girl who fell in love with a ghost 2

the girl who fell in love with a ghost 4

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