...and why won't you believe me... | final version

translator:  Jan Nowak1998

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...and why won't you believe me that I, shaped all of you, out of my rib of suffering - out of my diligently collected effluvium of spells - gathering,for years, crumbs of thoughts, words and gestures, and with it, kept creating, like a madman, a sampling of my life - when the world kept glancing over my shoulder, I turned away from it, with a hateful glint  - but, by that time, all of you were already living in me... and beyond me - and each of you wanted to be fully independent of me.
You were, then, already walking, talking, listening, and I, being too fearful you'd disappear like a dream, forgot that you have to be touched, embraced - whereas, overly facile seemed to me, the mere utterance of that well exhausted word "I love."
You began, at that time, to sense fear that I would fill you up to the limit and re-program you to think and feel like I do - you couldn't be persuaded that this fear is utter nonsense and an absolute lie. I didn't want to hurt you, and you, deep in thought, withdrew way too far to hear most of my words.
And all of you, who have been softly touched by the hand of my imagination and by the fingers of my thoughts -  smiling bitterly every time I spoke of that other world I'm coming from - declared it to be a dream of mine, one that I would like to realize, yet one of those more utopian sort of dreams, even worthy of placing in a beautiful dream registry, however, one must live like everyone else around lives.
And when I had none of the ribs left, when the uncertainty blew the dust off my hands, you all left, forgetting the words of the tongue we have been learning together since our birth.

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