Moon in Aquarius
by László Aranyi
The opus is more of an indication,
painted scratchy writing on a rotting tree trunk.
Buddha played like this
(web between his fingers,
living blue-green mud in his mouth)
on a reed with a shining
dewy spider thread. The artist confronts
its own self-governing sign system with the expected.
His imitations are grotesque, woebegone freaks,
’cause he can be a pesky clown...
He who creates
creates a legend,
from which he can be summoned any time as flesh and blood.
His works are irrelevant byproduct sets. He hides behind them,
beyond what can be known
and intently watches the tiny vibrations of appearances.
(Translated by Gabor Gyukics)