Welcome to Daedalus' Labyrinth

This blog has been created with the intention of posting online some ideas, points of view, histories, stories, tales and anything else that its creators want to write about.

The posts will be signed as from "Daedalus" or from "Uranus", therefore, differenciation will be easily noticed.

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

I'm glad you're not burning for me - мне нравится что вы больны не мной

I'm glad you're not burning for me

I'm glad I'm not burning for you
As we step upon the heavy Earth,
Its solidness shall never drift beneath us.
I'm glad I don't have to flirt,
That I can be relaxed with no need for word plays,
No suffocating blush, no calculated moves
After accidentally touching our sleeves or randomly eye gazing.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart; 
For you -- whether you know it or not! -- 
love me; for peaceful nights of sleep,
For our few dates in twilight dimness,
For not walking under the moonlight, 
For the rising Sun we will never witness,
For the fact that I -- alas! -- am not burning for you,
For fact that you -- alas! -- are not burning for me..

Translation - readaptation of:

мне нравится что вы больны не мной  - original (literally translated into English) text by: Евгения Саркисьянц.

Мне нравится, что Вы больны не мной,
Мне нравится, что я больна не Вами,
Что никогда тяжелый шар земной
Не уплывет под нашими ногами.
Мне нравится, что можно быть смешной
Распущенной-и не играть словами,
И не краснеть удушливой волной,
Слегка соприкоснувшись рукавами

Мне нравится еще, что Вы при мне
Спокойно обнимаете другую,
Не прочите мне в адовом огне
Гореть за то, что я не Вас целую.
Что имя нежное мое, мой нежный, не
Упоминаете ни днем ни ночью — всуе...
Что никогда в церковной тишине
Не пропоют над нами: аллилуйя!

Спасибо Вам и сердцем и рукой

За то, что Вы меня — не зная сами! —
Так любите: за мой ночной покой,
За редкость встреч закатными часами,
За наши не-гулянья под луной,
За солнце не у нас на головами,
За то, что Вы больны — увы! — не мной,
За то, что я больна — увы! — не Вами.

Thursday, April 30, 2015

All Things Bloom in Spite of Us

You, reader, human or highly developed dolphin. Have you noticed that sometimes when you're having the shittiest day, the Sun shines in the sky and birds sing mash-ups and even bees seem to be having fun?

I think it's something between a mockery and a poetic life lesson. I mean, God must be too bored to be willing to teach us whatever without being a huge pain in the ass or without making us (especially me) cry in outraged Spanish.

Let's make a list of situations:

- you just got fired, yet there are no clouds in the sky and your closest friends are bragging about traveling to a place you've always dreamed to visit but which you won't be able to afford because you just god fired.

- or, more like me, you're in a moral hangover in the middle of spring. Your closest friends and current special one are moving abroad within a few months (or even less), you're in angst because you don't know whether you should graduate in time or take things easier... but you could just take things easier if you weren't dying to get a job and become fully financially independent, plus you don't know where the hell you're going to be two years from now, and let's just make it clear you're not the homecoming kind.

End of the list

So, to whomever it may concern, a moral hangover is very similar to the one related to alcohol. Your head aches, your stomach aches, your sleep schedules get f*cked up and so does your stamina to get through the day. Also, according  to Urban Dictionary: a feeling of intense regret and personal worthlessness.

The thing is that, notwithstanding it all, everything blossoms, blooms and perishes around you in spite of you. I may be feeling like shit, sort of stressed and feeling cast aside, but I still have to study, work, dress up, eat, do right, see my friends and be more thankful for what I do got.

There's a song I like which says something like: "If we pulled the alarm for personal matters, no trains would ever run".

So there you are, defeated, second best, looking like you got run over by a truck, all out of luck and faith in people. Maybe the flowers, rapping birds, workaholic bees, relatively warm weather and a fair bright side to things are there for a reason. Well, you, unlikely like me, might think the universe should know better and just teach those stupid lessons to someone like Paris Hilton (whose life is awesome and pretty much like my dream of living on tanning by the pool, eating sushi and traveling around more often), but instead the universe is trying to teach those lessons to you, or maybe you're just as odd as I am for thinking it works that way, or that Karma might actually exist.

In conclusion, just dust yourself off, say sashay away to your sorrow and remember pressure makes diamonds.

Monday, April 6, 2015


O que eu vejo em você
Só em você eu vejo

mas não tenho certeza
que você mereça
que eu escreva por escrever

uma prosa, um poema
ou uma história bem clichê

eu tenho medo das coisas darem certo
e depois darem errado

de mostrar demais e me sentir enganado

eu quero você perto, mesmo tão longe assim
por isso mantenho você distante
pra que queira ficar bem perto de mim

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Fantasie Impromptu

Still alive
And something burns through my veins
Something instinctive
Aggressive, dominant, hideously beautiful
I am my own rival
I cannot read your mind
I cannot decode your thoughts
micromanaging circumstances
acting in false submission
will my perfume draw your attention
so will my eyes? lips? hair? skin?
will your saliva slide down my throat?
sweetest venom, priceless victory
I am craving passionately
to see if the pieces of our puzzle will come together
will they fit?
will I despise you?
will you avoid me?
will we leave the puzzle undone?
will we dance around mechanical lights
like moths drawn to the same flame
your name is written on my wings
you are reflected on my many eyes
but I can but glimpse you
the light of my feelings is too bright
it nearly blinds me
Will I prove myself wrong trying to prove myself right?
delightful be the meantime

Friday, November 28, 2014

"God only knows why I don't just retreat instead of riding the rails"

December is just around the corner, upcoming Winter and Summer divide the two hemispheres.

My life feels like a constant climax that never seems to reach its conclusion, the scene never ends and the closer I get to my goals the farther they seem to be. Every step I climb turns the next ten steps visible.

And then I have been stumbling upon my own careless distraction and starting to believe the universe is against me all of a sudden. Isn't it amazing how far we can get once we run as fast as we can while blinded by our own obsessions?

I feel like a Indian godly creature with a dozen arms all trying to make ends meet. If everything is truly meaningless, how can such meaninglessness feel so overwhelmingly heavy a weight?

Can it be possibly true that with my smile alone I can get through all this? The lack of Sun added to questioning my own raison d'être leads me to scratching my brain raw, how come? How come I cannot just sit still and watch life flows by like I am watching a river stream?

I wish I could slow down or actually stop the stream, yet it only runs ever faster, I am scared. I don't want time to pass me by so quickly, I don't want it all to flash before my eyes and escape like sand coming down the hole of an hourglass.

I pray for deliverance from my own stupidity and self-loathing perfectionism.

"I try to keep and open mind
 but I can't sleep on this tonight
 stop this train
 I wanna get off and go home again
 I can't take the speed it's moving in

I don't know how else to say it
I don't want to see my parents go
One generation's length away
 from fighting life out on my own"

Ich suche vergebens - I hopelessly search
Wohin ich mich wende - somewhere I can head to
Und der zug fahrt weiter - yet the train goes farther 
Ohne ziel, ohne ende -  no destination, no ending
Doch ich will leben, leben, leben - and so I want to live, to live, to live
Schön ist die liebe - love is beautiful 

Sunday, June 8, 2014

My Early Summertime Molten Core

Alas, for this blog is on course of losing its track.

How am I feeling tonight?

That should be answered as if no one would read, judge or criticize it.

It's like the atomic lysergic energy I've felt twice in my chest before.

It has to be spent, it has to be used, it has to be released, it's overwhelming, it's a will to scream, to live, to shake things up and down; I'm yet restraint from doing that by my fear and social convention.

It's like I have a wild spirit inside of me that is caged into a pathetic routine of civilized perfection. I want to feel out of my shell, and it seems that the farther I get is never far enough.

Life is a succession of victories, each one of them leading you towards another battle, the next one, and so on until you're relentlessly stranded, thus being unable to step forward.

I constantly ask myself: "what comes after? and what it all comes down to?" I am naive and I am intoxicated by these useless questions; it's the ultimate failure of evolution the rational ability to dissect everything because it leads us into NOTHING which happens to be the answer, result and most acceptable conclusion for EVERYTHING.

God, I hate those capital letters, they make me sound like an ignorant person frantically trying to be heard by someone else.

It's humbling in a scary way how the more I learn, the more knowledge I acquire, the less I feel intelligent and educated. It's not even rational to think that way, it's like, the more I know, the more stupid I feel. For feeling so, perhaps stupidity has been inherent to me all along from the very start.

"I know nothing, but I suspect of many things"; whereas I'm currently living in a world where one must make oneself and others believe one's ideas, a foolish ploy, for a theory can be justified by a hundred supportive arguments and it can be completely falsified by a single logical contradiction.

I'm out of series, out of sequence, out of synchrony. I'm like a prototype that accidentally ended up on a store shelf and even more incidentally ended up being picked up and introduced in this world of sophisticated well-defined dolls. As a prototype, I am not complete, and for being incomplete, I am more than average, because I change.

I have a mold, but the cover is always missing and I just hope for it to be always that way.

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Middle Winter Stream of Consciousness

January is passing by as fast as a buzzard in frantic hunt after its dying prey. Not so dramatic though, besides my exaggerations.
The exams have at long last begun and the pressure to get good grades has broken the fragile spiritual balance I was in.
Lately, I have been feeling like a (rather cynical) child who rediscovers everything about this world and this life every morning, every time I get up in the gray wintertime morrows, I glance through the huge window of my room and check if it's sunny. I learnt to childishly associate cloudy days with hopelessness, it seems I have nothing better to do.

Then I observe the nearby river, how its water flows, what force is behind that constant stream? Is it gravity? Is it a matter of angle? Then I suddenly perceive some beauty in the dead trees and rotten leaves fallen upon dirt. Good, I'm still sensitive to such things.

The pen is almost out of ink, who cares, I can type now and then buy myself another pen later, much later, maybe next month, I should do so this Tuesday though.

Never-ending redundant questions twist in my mind, how does everything work? Why is this world so mechanical? So strange? Why would nature be any less strange than culture if we don't even know where we came from in first place?
We cannot judge things without doing so from a solid perspective, or maybe we do know where we came from, so what's coming after we're gone? Should I even care about it?

I feel I'm in need of more space for meditation, for my inner reflections. For staring against the ceiling for hours without raising worries on those who surround me. They need not to worry, I'm a strange kind of extroverted person who needs their fair share of grooming quite often.

Giving too much poetic sense to everything that surrounds me is making me feel like I'm living in a parallel perspective from that of everyone I know and from everyone with whom I share my days.

Dark weather, lack of Sun, allergic reaction, moodiness,  unemployment, lack of patience, increasing cynicism, these things have been driving me off the rails this month as if I had ever been on the rails to start with.

Worrying too much ought to be one of my greatest flaws every now and then, why am I so worried about disappointing people? Why am I so worried about having them all around but never getting too close? Perhaps I am still finding out aspects from my own nature that have always been there but that were never been given much thought about.

The thing is I'm always somewhat unsure about absolutely everything, yet I'm still trying to find strength in me... in a very irrational and altruistic way, maybe I really do think like a believer or something in spite of it all and in spite of me.