The Sun 

by László Aranyi 

 

(Tarot, Major Arcane, XIX.)

 

 

 

 

              A rotten, bowlegged, question mark-curved gnome

seeks the Lord of Cemeteries.

       The disk of the living flesh of the Sun

                     sits between his horns.

 

       The lady of Babylon is laid out. Rigid as wax,

                     the decomposing body fluids make it slither

              on the palm of the autopsy table.

 

Her chalice is a motionless woe,

       a fungus mouth expanded into

a foetidus cavity.

       Ten Suns are up in the sky, then comes Hou-Ji,

                     the archer, and frees our world from nine,

       thus getting rid of the killer heat… Grotesque squiggles

come forth from the inheritance of the departed, they all suggest

God tempting practices.

       In a beaked retort a tiny

              frog-headed creature bounces

in the unrealistically light green goop.

                            Proserpina is wandering naked

       during one of the clip-winged nights

among the opening crypts.

Her sack is a key and a moldering fleshed stinking fish carcass.

Purulent ulcer roses swarm everywhere,

       rot draws its sigillums on its flawless-looking body…

Pine branches break as the clay statue falls…

 

And the Suns shot by Hou-Ji sidle back into their places.

All nine…

 

 

 

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(Translated by Gabor Gyukics)