September 2, 2023: Why do these lousy muses decide to visit when I’m hungover?

Clusters of unrelated thoughts, a brain fog, and a headache.
I crawled out of bed after a long night of drinking with Dionysus.
My mouth was as dry as forgotten laundry in the sun.
But instead of looking for water, I looked for a pen.
Why do these lousy muses decide to visit when I’m hungover?

Yesterday – what happened yesterday?
My neck is sore from all the head-banging.
It was a lot of fun.

Today – how can I have a normal day?
I woke up dead, but I feel so alive.
I want to do things.

First, water.
Then I’m ready to create.

“The Crescent Moon” by Levon Shant

Levon Shant (1869-1951) was an Armenian poet, playwright, and novelist. This is my translation of “The Crescent Moon” from Armenian to English.

The Crescent Moon

From the dark sky at midnight,
it is the crescent’s odd eye
— thin, crooked, and unblinking —
that silently stares into my eyes.

And with a dry, mocking smile,
it’s as if it’s saying,
“Crumb of the universe! What are you doing there?
I know! A great deal! You are thinking!”