Kyriakos
04-12-2014, 12:27 PM
I have been told it does, and assume it is so indeed. Furthermore it is a horrible idea to translate your own stories, in a language which is not your native one.
But if you feel like it you can have a look at this brief piece, and comment on my use of the language. I might try to send some stuff to English magazines, although not the one posted here since it is just an exercise of sorts...
Time
It is not as if I expected things to not come to this point- since I anticipated it, despite always hoping it could be avoided for much longer. But, as they have, I am already writing to you so as to ask, with the utmost sincerity which is only matched by my fear of all which came to pass. I ask that you allow me to simply alter the position I currently am made to sustain. And to reverse it. I ask: that I can be left alone for only a little time before my return to this hallway, to the narrow passage, the end of the innumerable specs of dusty sand one steered carelessly during his long walk, parodying a force less significant than what another might relegate to the level of the crawling insects.
I took the wrong path. A flock of stairs I run up to was since proven to have been exactly one of the very few that – if anything – narrowed down my options to a number set in the near future to reach the singularity and the oneness of what can no longer be divided with any remaining integrity. I know all that, and also a lot more than anything I am communicating to you now. It is in spite of all those things that I still plead for you to overlook the strictest examination of all I have amounted to.
This brief address is nearing its end. I do hope that in its very end it shall be met with the joyful expression of acceptance for my plea. I marvel at the ability I have to even imagine such an outcome! (but it is only human to do so; one can never actually march beyond this corridor while being calm, or under the guise of all his other accumulated facades, through time-persisting behaviors acknowledged as errors and aspirations by now lowered and having a cthonic character.
And still, just on the opposite side of this barrier, this door I stood in front of after realizing what exists past it, there are always new rooms that wait for me, other planes and fields and running grounds, so prolonged that one could even lose inside them the sense that narrowing passages between austere walls that seek to touch one another do yet exist- just so far away from here, so far away from even knowing of this doorway. There, inside a hall, windows opened on the edge of the lit and massive room, buildings with their glimmering lights of distant life will now rise from the dust that one so easily notices before you, oh door, oh entity of the door, keeper of the sole corridor which isn't just made of the dust but moreover made to spread it as far away from here as our dreams are from an infant that has never seen its first nightmare...
Door, I just ask that I can avoid the sight after yourself, for one- and final- time.
(thanks for reading. I have had work published, but not in English).
But if you feel like it you can have a look at this brief piece, and comment on my use of the language. I might try to send some stuff to English magazines, although not the one posted here since it is just an exercise of sorts...
Time
It is not as if I expected things to not come to this point- since I anticipated it, despite always hoping it could be avoided for much longer. But, as they have, I am already writing to you so as to ask, with the utmost sincerity which is only matched by my fear of all which came to pass. I ask that you allow me to simply alter the position I currently am made to sustain. And to reverse it. I ask: that I can be left alone for only a little time before my return to this hallway, to the narrow passage, the end of the innumerable specs of dusty sand one steered carelessly during his long walk, parodying a force less significant than what another might relegate to the level of the crawling insects.
I took the wrong path. A flock of stairs I run up to was since proven to have been exactly one of the very few that – if anything – narrowed down my options to a number set in the near future to reach the singularity and the oneness of what can no longer be divided with any remaining integrity. I know all that, and also a lot more than anything I am communicating to you now. It is in spite of all those things that I still plead for you to overlook the strictest examination of all I have amounted to.
This brief address is nearing its end. I do hope that in its very end it shall be met with the joyful expression of acceptance for my plea. I marvel at the ability I have to even imagine such an outcome! (but it is only human to do so; one can never actually march beyond this corridor while being calm, or under the guise of all his other accumulated facades, through time-persisting behaviors acknowledged as errors and aspirations by now lowered and having a cthonic character.
And still, just on the opposite side of this barrier, this door I stood in front of after realizing what exists past it, there are always new rooms that wait for me, other planes and fields and running grounds, so prolonged that one could even lose inside them the sense that narrowing passages between austere walls that seek to touch one another do yet exist- just so far away from here, so far away from even knowing of this doorway. There, inside a hall, windows opened on the edge of the lit and massive room, buildings with their glimmering lights of distant life will now rise from the dust that one so easily notices before you, oh door, oh entity of the door, keeper of the sole corridor which isn't just made of the dust but moreover made to spread it as far away from here as our dreams are from an infant that has never seen its first nightmare...
Door, I just ask that I can avoid the sight after yourself, for one- and final- time.
(thanks for reading. I have had work published, but not in English).