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.
(Translated by Gabor Gyukics)