From the
CHRONS & MAXIMS

* * *

I celebrate the St. Valpurgius Night.
The paintbrush runs in field of deepest blue!
Inside of me the chitta-vrttis flashing,
And I am cursing like a vily witch.
My house is not like Brocken, nor the Blocken,
But lake on canvas is so clear and crystal,
The face, as yet not finally revealed,
Is watching me from canvas, tired and absent.
He's gone now, he, imprisoned by his freedom,
My parents will go too, but I will stay here
To make my coffee, spoil the canvas' blue
And celebrate the day of fair Guzlik^*.
The so called people running down the streets,
Endowed with eyes containing glass of vodka,
One pound of meet, half kilo of cream butter,
The loan, change, newspaper, television,
Tobacco cheep and sadness without end.
The eyes that we all have are multicoloured –
From black to very clear and crystal blue,
But not a pair of green ones I have seen,
But for the mirroir.

May, 1, 1991

© Katy J. Trend, 1992

I surely remember that Katy once did gave me an explanation of what "Guzlik" is; the explanation itself I've forgot. I only remember that it is not connected with Turk "guzal" or Arabic "gozal".