omina.

[yearofthehorse]

OMINA
From the Danish by Naja Marie Aidt and Mette Moestrup, unofficial English translation





this will be about
doubt and this will
be a hammer
of burning steel



this will be about
the hardness of the heart
and this will be soft
as a severed breast



a bitter drink
in the year of the horse



a wild ride
in the year of the horse



you stood there
burning from shame
without reason
because shame
wipes out reasons

it is the original reason
and it makes its wearer
unsure, unpleasing

and soft

like the soft parts
dusk
rose petals in dusk

defenceless
lovely



where are you going? your heart

beats like the blows of fists
closes like a child’s hand

around nothing
for everything

while time gets old

what you pride yourself of
pains you

so you call pain jewellery



the horse gallops
through the mud
doesn’t wait
for anyone or anything

amazon
amazon



you wanted the wild ride
with all your heart

it had a will of its own
which made you powerless

petals
ashes
whirling

no one shall rule over me
no one



your heart chakra
is closed

is that a reason?



your heart is not the heart of a horse
your heart is not the heart of a dog

at the bottom of the well
brackish water shimmers

turn around



a lovely drink
in the year of the horse

sweet and cooling
strong and dark

like blackbird
like bat



you bit into a blue plum
hurriedly

drank from a cup of tin

the horse from its through
the dog from its bowl

before the wild ride

go
go

on the way from one battle to another

come, be my allies



if you want to go
we will go

you said

but not even that
knew any answer

in the year of the horse

where you lay on a
cold stone floor
and was trodden down
by your own ghosts



go alone
the amazon
always alone
with her animals
hooves and paws
barking and neighing
drowns out the wish for words
to communicate something to someone
to whisper what to whom why?

oh to write a note of goodbye

adieu my love have courage



a strengthening drink
the urine of the bat
whisked into foam
in a tub of steel



to walk – why
when you can ride
yes, have to!
through a forest
penetrating foliage with your forehead
the crown of the skull
at a trot over moss
crotch against pelt
over the colourfulness of flora

bluebell red clover
dark green moss
the most beautiful grey brain



you burn yourself
when you stoke the ashes

you are looking for fresh
herbs but they
have assumed
another shape

grey grey ashes
grey grey ashes

not strengthening

juices gone
tongue dry as
a mummy



the horse has never had another mistress
is there something virginal about that?

the shadows change their shape every night

a blackbird/a bat flaps through foliage

what has value
when you are flying through hierarchies
except for that which smashes the hierarchy

_

there is no peace, only war

over all mountains there is no calm, only cries



you have to sing
so everything becomes song
so death is repressed
by song

but you won’t sing

you hold your breath

you say nothing

your silence feels like
a direction
but it is
blue light

_

the year of the horse
is body



the amazon
cuts off her right breast

beneath the left:
the thud-thud of her heart

she burns the wound
black healing herb

now she draws the bow
harder than before



a bat in the courtyard and a sun
black that sings like
everything depends on singing
the whole world was song
black shadows zigzag across
a field of vision is bolted lightening
in the air is a little frightening
is the devil’s work
in a winged shape
not like blackbird soft and singing
but hard and fast like
wrong choices that are bitey
that are brutal recoveries and sharp
dives do not doubt the movement
the way the blackbird doesn’t doubt
the movement
but the one who watches
the black shadows

doubts

the movement



the curve of the cannon ball is perfect
like a severed breast

the dogs can have it

the hungry bitches and their litters



you stood there at a loss
for a gesture that could
bring the moment onwards

so it could become
harmony, get in order

what is the illusion that
something has to get in order

the opposite of doubt



it is index finger and thumb around the lovely blackberry

a black sun constitutes a language in the dusk

a rain of fired arrows
pour through your brain
hit ancient targets

beneath the crown of the skull:
vengeance
taken anew
and procured at a heavy price



nothing will get in order
you tell yourself that you

are progressing

learning

the ghosts laugh

the horse neighs
frothing

the horse, born of foam

the amazon hangs by its belly



in the dim tin mirror
your face is a
death mask

nothing shimmering about it

a hard structure waits ahead

a wilder wilder ride

in the year of the horse

where bloodied garments get cleaned
in ice cold water

and you didn’t know
for how long you were welcome



the amazon
hangs by its
belly

risks
her life for

the speed, the body
foam-born heat

is speed like song

like the illusion about
progression

like the illusion about
being

alive as much as possible



there is always a new fight

a senseless death
once more by human hand

blood mixes with the mud
runs out into the glow of dawn

the dog barks in its sleep
a ghost takes immortal form



baby birds
chirp inside their nest
in deep-green foliage
hidden in the crown of the tree
because all enemies are
entering murderers

who has taken away
the amazon’s weapon

in this black-blue evening

she is lying in the mud
and crying dry tears
angry sobs
brew inside her

is it goodbye
that is her
war



say something

you are not saying anything

the horse snorts

then you whisper hoarsely
as if from deep within a well:

there is a difference between ruling
through violence and force
and falling
in surrender of your own power


adieu my love have courage

but who has courage
for someone who sends
a note of goodbye
like that?

the amazon
burns
in your eyes

you lick up
her flames

the ashes she will have
to sweep up herself

at midnight
in pain

bring her
a bowl of blackberries
on which to strengthen herself

bring her warm
wine and a feather to brush
loose her loins
like words loosen
the grey brain from
woe and agony

but no one
dares



there is always a new battle to fight
there is never peace
always some war somewhere

an unbelievable repression
of flesh so warlike

crotch against pelt

it is always worth it to take down
an ancient order

even if you have to take down yourself
be one with the downfall



she dreamt about a blue
plum
that wasn’t bitter

the dawn
in her mouth
sugary sweet sleep



possible perhaps to overstep
all authorities

always on the move from one place to another

this neither-nor both-and
rushing through the body

in the year of the horse

the neighing of death



the dog is taken to the chopping block

you are not serving your mistress as she
wishes that you serve her

the expectation of the eyes
as the knife slits the throat

the mistress upset with the dog

and the heart of the dog quiet
and she steps
through the forest

the anger is loaded
with doubt

the horse is a shadow
in the pen of dusk
the grass black as night
the blood black the dog
grey where it is tossed thrown in the meadow



the maiden says all women are born
the maiden says death is in every birth

she digs into the snow with her spoon
during summer the meadow plum stood here

so yellow
so yellow
like sun
like gold

the mistress shoos her into her room
locking it with the heaviest key in her chain



always a war

always the desire
to ruin
to rebuild

tear down
reborn

powerful
and freed



like the cat eats its stillborn kitten
and licks clean the one left alive

like the horse runs into the fire
without ever looking back



about the year of the horse it has been
said:

a wild ride

unwise actions

restlessness

like throwing yourself from a tower

like miscalculating distances

like destroying structures



the hooves sink into the mud
the bread green from mould

a stench of poison hemlock from the cup
a mouse running through your hair

you cannot undo it
you cannot undo it



if you look through the cracks
in the rotten stable walls
you see metals shine

the amazon stokes the fire

the muzzle of the horse against the muzzle of the foal
the ears sense unrest



your face sinks into
and into itself

adieu my love have courage

no relief

as no one can ever see themselves relieved

as no one can ever breathe a sigh

because there is always war somewhere



restless body of a horse
wants to run and rear without fear
in the booth hormones
rush wildly through
the body of a horse restless

restless body of a woman
wants to run and rear without fear
behind the door hormones
rush wildly through
the body of a woman restless

restless body of a horse is
a shining steed

restless body of a woman is
soft flesh

a woman

a warrior

_

is this true?
is this true?



blackbird lays eggs

the bat gives birth

water nymphs glitter

in their mating hearts



there is a difference between ruling
through violence and force
and falling
in surrender of your own power



the blood flows
red from your lap

centaur



the bat floats
in the courtyard

may skies, blue
keep shining alight

but who stands there and kicks
with its hoof, unfree

who rubs their ankles
on tight-fitting shoes

who rears fights
against the reins

neglect
beneath the moon
yellow as piss



you carried your courage/your pride
like a tiara and violence
builds its nest in your brain



you stood there
without language
without information
about where you wanted to go

you could feel nothing

the horse without direction
without its rider

_

you as horse



it does you good/it does you harm
to lose your innocence
in a whirring of wings

what is the lie?
what is easy?

to caress the crown of the skull
the mane
to glow
find food

in terrain that is difficult to navigate



bluebell red clover
the most beautiful grey brain

this morning the animal is grazing
this morning downpour

she finds shelter beneath the umbrella of leaves in the crown of the tree
with flight of thought swirls

her wet skin and her shivering
her desire to destroy

dark green moss
the most beautiful grey brain

what’s not to love
beneath the cloud-obscured sun



forget about me:

a huge egg must hatch
a foal flying out

a meteor must land from mars

the land of the amazons
the land of the amazons



foggy night
foggy fairy tale night
secrets in the mist
rising from everything

from the heart chakra
from the trees
from the shining crust of the earth

the swan sings
the foxes cry
mice frightened flittering

there has to be a story
in which you can stand up

as an amazon

as a rearing horse

as a no
to everything that burdens

you have to be a sail
and a seal
tonight



a shower of petals
a shower of falling stars

is there a constellation of stars
called the foal?

you are breathing

everything of which you have more than 1
you shall part from

and then you must turn around