The River to Hell Hieronymus Bosch (1450-1516)

LINKING RAIN AND IMAGES OF BOSCH
1
With flashes of dragonfly wings,
The rain that illuminated everything.
A swarm of flashing dragonflies flew by.
Then the rain descended like a monstrous belly –
Like Leviathan descending upon us.
Streams tell tales of ancient times.
Of ancient, primordial, earths depths.
Unimaginable ships sail by.
Images get stuck in my brain –
I cant pull them out with a two-pronged fork from the tree.
The rain tears, pours, and roars.
Wait a little longer, and it will pass.

2
We turned the waterfall inside out,
Created a light miracle.
And diamonds and topazes sparkle,
In the streams – emeralds gleam.
Or will they cook us soup from leaves?
The poplars are pierced by water.
What use is soup to me if Im interested in the essence
Of everything – let it be gray...

3
Ship masts creak,
Ropes tear.
The rain descends relentlessly –
Pirates threaten us.
Rain pirates will plunder right now
My fleet of tranquility.
But a core candle burns within my soul,
It sings even in shadow.

4
The sky is washed by the rain, and behind the water
Images of Bosch appear to me.
Who pierces with their beard
A sharp point
Articulated wooden branches?
Hedgehog, why did you put on glasses?
What book lies before you, plant?
A transparent ball, rays languish.
Bosch-like gatherings of bodies, and a beggar
Doesnt walk in the rain. A vagabond waits.
While the crazy one whistles
The rain, considering our kind as food.

5
A stack of gold, and gold is that
The highest color. And against this background, people
Like dolls, they are not destined to understand
What power nurtures and judges them.

6
Bosch gives so much of everything!
(Self-portrait, where the lips are like a cut).
Theres a scalpel for thoughts. It is sharp. But here
A string rings – then from the world of dreams
Nothing remains. And the knife
Is huge, it cuts through the horizon.
Two ears – and they are gigantic. You dont expect
Anything besides red paint.
I am still alive. And Bosch? Where is he?
Glorified. And mysterious. There you go.

7
Sometimes I feel like a Bosch vagabond.
Although I lived in abundance, I dont collect
Alms, and fate was kind to me.
But this vagabond... he passes by
The very edge of metaphysics.
I dont know what happens to him,
Day with itself.

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