Kolekcja tłumaczeń – język angielski

Kolekcja tłumaczeń

Język angielski

Elżbieta Cichla-Czarniawska

Marek Danielkiewicz

Wojciech Dunin-Kozicki

Zbigniew Włodzimierz Fronczek

Magdalena Jankowska

Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek

Joanna Pawłat

Rafał Rutkowski


Elżbieta Cichla-Czarniawska

a snowy owl
[sowa śnieżna]

why do you imprint on your mind
sketches from trips not taken

there
contours of strange cities
real yet nonexistent
crowded though uninhabited
there wandering echoes of hasty encounters
and shy goodbyes

the fringes of the unfulfilled

from a sleepless perspective
abandoned moments bark
crumpled feelings fall on the pavement
like tickets to nowhere

ravaging is the fever
brought on by fear or lust

behind eyelids vast lands
but where has been laid
your only possession
the promethean bequest:

a small burning coal of words

look:
on the branch of pure dream
a snowy owl has landed
it calmly cleans from its feathers
the dust of fruitless flights

perhaps it is giving you a clear sign?

przełożyli Barbara Kaskosz i Nancy Abeshaus

the invisible hand of justice
[niewidzialna ręka sprawiedliwości]

everything around sparkles with life
so help me understand
why do I look
if I don’t perceive

why do I walk into the fire
if nothing cools me
but a barren drop of anguish

why am I drowning
if I am not meant
to land softly
on the safe bottom of time

tell me
why words at every chance
lose innocence
why beauty instead of lifting up
pushes into a well of despair

help me understand all that
when every morning I fall
into a thousand tempting traps
turn and turn about:
I am entranced or I am petrified
and at dusk an invisible someone
ties a black cloth over my eyes
puts a silent gun to my temple
and whispers:
a life for a life

przełożyli Barbara Kaskosz i Nancy Abeshaus

suspended
[w zawieszeniu]

time solidifies and chasms of whiteness emerge
noon heavy from heat turns to ash

who is the one living inside me at this hour
himself uninhabited?

a wave splashes: now? here? when? where?
the world’s heart is beating with erratic pulse
but the shore shines lifelessly – battlefield
tamped down by busy feet of the sea:
seaweed shells black wood dead fish –
death visualized

here I am reading the first and perhaps the last edition
of the book of all that passes

where is refuge if still existing on its pages
at this nearly petrified moment
between a gigantic drop of salt water
empty face of the sky and the heat
I do not live here at all?

przełożyli Barbara Kaskosz i Nancy Abeshaus

stoniness
[kamienność]

those who passed away
most likely valued life:
the allure of events
the majesty of icy nights
the hum of brisk mornings
familiar homes friendly knickknacks
sandy riverbanks thicket and grass

sword of damocles despair and poems

everything outlasted them
but it doesn’t remember recognize know
it keeps silent when I ask
why exist at all
in such cruel unawareness?

I am afraid to ask people
they are aware

przełożyli Barbara Kaskosz i Nancy Abeshaus

seen differently
[nagle inaczej]

on the branch of pure dream
a snowy owl has landed
and suddenly
it sees everything differently

the furrowy trunk of a pine differently
promises of the sky differently
a suicidal jump of a squirrel differently
the taiga of anxiety differently

differently bitterness and joy

bound to its fragile bones
soldered to the time it has been given
entangled in esoteric blizzards
weaving its selfless existence
through icicles and sparks of love
love so casually offered by the universe

hypersensitive snowy owl
a crumb of living matter
pulsating with stubborn hope

once and forever struck
by the sinless beauty of illusion

it emerged from itself
or perhaps from blind whistles
of the cosmic wind
fanciful owl
of sovereign spaces within us

it doesn’t mean much just Everything and Nothing

przełożyli Barbara Kaskosz i Nancy Abeshaus


Marek Danielkiewicz

***
[ilekroć widzę przyjaciół]

Whenever I see my friends
I try to remember
the lessons of boxing
the lessons of diction
the lessons in betrayals

Most likely
you’ll find me a wretched man
who prefers animals
who carries a book between his shoulders
for when the pedestal slips from beneath your feet
you will be forced to turn to hope of hanging

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

Maturity
[Czas dojrzały]

suddenly humps me
like a maniac

Fondles me
and obsessively reminds me about the money

Ransacks my past
with a map of destiny on his lap

First he slobbered my ear
then forced his tongue into my mouth
sucking out the remnants of youth

I’m trying to put up with his presence
though I can’t stand the smell offermenting yeast
and garlic

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

Like a dog
[Jak pies]

I am your dog
eating cold leftovers
I cuddle at your feet
and every time
a different woman takes me home
and kicks my butt good-bye

I know that things pass
one can only laugh at cocksure brats
who think the world is at their feet
because they’re young
have all the teeth
fiat bellies
and firm genitals

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

Confessions of Thomas
[Wyznanie Tomasza]

The boy thought that the father was killing the mother
As the woman was giving herself to the man

The whole family was crowded into a rented room
Therefore he had no way out
He covered his head with a pillow and huddled close to his brother
Then masterbated and fell asleep

Today he cannot overcome his aversion to women
The image of father’s hairy belly comes back
He glances at every passing man
As if looking for the guilty one

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

To waste your life is to elevate yourself to the heights of poetry – without support of talent.
Emil Cioran

A Choirboy
[Chórzysta]

He was hardly nineteen and a high-school graduate
For a time he found a place for himself in church choir
The most beautiful boys stood in the first row
They attracted to the temple lonely women, old bachelors
and provincial theology students
He noticed that clergymen were the most envious of beauty
That’s why he quit singing
Kissed Our Lord good-bye
And fell for street people who returned his handshakes

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

A Man
[Mężczyzna]

Has a delicate greyness around his ears
Says he reads books on „how to be a real man”
He wants to open himself to the world
Meanwhile he settles for a shrink
Yes, he masterbates
He knows it’s a waste of time
Once he raped his wife – she left him
He’s more and more helpless, searching for the truth
about himself

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

An Incident
[Wypadek]

The rock was slippery like your skin
I was not a boy anymore
but still ignorant of manhood
Snow turned to water
and streamed into the Black Pond
The white of a pulpit excited me

I recall this incident with an embarassment
as you would unwillingly relate about a sexual initiation
or cutting your veins
I can’t master my agitation
as if I lost the sense of ridiculous

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz

Autobiography
[Autobiografia]

Reality surrounding me is not accommodating
It’s me who is a woman
Once I was called Andy Warhol
I liked silk shirts and canned beer
I met Yves Saint Laurent
We felt good together
You’re wasting your time with him — they said
Right – I thought
And instantly changed into a loose woman
The punk aesthetics became me

Once I was a woman in a seashore town
I slept with everyone around
Gently I gave myself to the New Wave
I kissed the boys of Der Blaue Reiter
No one expected any commitment from me
I shuddered at the mere thought of men
from the ship Trans-Avant-Garde
I was afraid they’d leave me on shore

przełożyła Maria Rewakowicz


Wojciech Dunin-Kozicki

what to do with a horizon of omissions
[co zrobić z horyzontem niedomówień]

I wake up and check through the blinds
if the cascade of sensitivity
is still hanging on the high-cheer wires

of course, I still do have before me
the fountain of fresh air
unexpressive in its still life movement

through which I see naked window panes
or maybe I am only a voyeur of the day
netting its flutter and taking my collection

into the dark night or not only there
so as to do it against resigned shoulders
after my beat of unfinished houses because

after the whirl of blatant undercurrents of
basements that in summer steal the warmth
in the ruddy sand and in winter

deny it to working subcontractors of
fleeting opportunities it has to be done

przełożył Robert Mirski

a knife or a butterfly (simultaneous interpreting of some things for personal use)
[motyl albo nóż (tłumaczenie ze słuchu sobie pewnych rzeczy na użytek własny)]

the alarm doesn’t know that somebody has to be there
to check that no one broke in. no one knows
if Socrates was right and what he meant by
this or that, what he didn’t mean by the other thing.
out rides the bus, the driver leaves the door
left open and passengers thank him it’s so hot
that some fresh air is welcome and the driver
goes to the bar orders a frozen coffee and looks through
the glass. it’s so quiet. I’m staying here – he thinks
I’m just going to stay here. when they come to get
him he decides to drive on still forward down
the road among the meandering park alleys by the pool
where small fat children swim with the dolphins

przełożył Robert Mirski


Zbigniew Włodzimierz Fronczek

Four Incarnations of Sophie O.
[Cztery wcielenia Zofii O.]

     I have known Sophie O. by sight. She appears in some places which I like and visit frequently : “The Dawn” Café, “The Outer Space” Cinema, the Saxon Garden. Some day she was reading her poems in the “Albatross” bookshop . Thus she is a poetess – and a married woman but I do not know whether she has any children.
     One day, she barred my way in the library –I know more about you than you may think – she declared .
     – I want you to know something about me, as well! It’s the fourth time I’ve been here, in this world under the sun. Do you catch what I’m saying? You don’t! So do listen what I’ve got to say!

1.

In the year 1675 I was a Spanish princess, at my fifteenth spring I fatally fell in love. I mean ‘fatally’ because my beloved man was a wandering juggler.
We didn’t manage to escape, my parents sent me to a convent. I died after three years, of some mysterious disease, but some people said I must have died of grief and longing . I left one hundred and sixteen ballads behind. They are still being sung but nobody knows that it was me who was the authoress . Yesterday I heard George Brassens singing one of them on the radio!

2.

One century later I came up again. In 1796 I was 16 and married to my first husband. While we were wandering along the North America prairies, an Indian warrior shot my husband dead at the Agassiz River, then having scalped him then at my presence. In the tent of that man I used to taw furs and smoke the meat. My fingers went thick and my nails became like claws. I thought I would turn into a bear some day. No, it didn’t happen, one day some men attacked us – one of them took our horses, another took the guns and furs, the last one took me. We passed to a distant place into a wooden cottage standing alone on a plain facing the mountains with peaks wearing large snowy caps. He was good for me; after nine months I was dying at my childbed and he was mourning for me. Can you imagine that I long after him more than after anyone else?
How do I know? From my dreams ! And I’ve been learning more and more things from the subsequent ones .

3.

150 years ago, everybody was enchanted by the brightness of my eyesight, my blond hair and my slender figure. I didn’t expect to be strangled by some rascal paid by my husband’s lover. He attacked me alone in the kitchen and clenched his big fingers on my throat. I had some time to notice how attracted I was to him, so I tore my dress to expose my naked breasts . He couldn’t resist the temptation to touch them . While he was enjoying the caress, I hit him with a jar. Unfortunately, I did it too weakly and he only fainted for a moment, I wasn’t lucky enough to run away. It was fortunate I gave pain to this thug, thus I made him commit that murder easier: he didn’t kill me for nothing but money, he did it also of hatred. So it was not too long that I was suffering .
– Why am I saying this ? – You remind me of that scamp.

przełożył Roy Callaghan


Magdalena Jankowska

***
[omdlałe linie pagórków…]

languid hill lines
soft valley hollows
the body after love
when sleep comes after death
allowing to revive

przełożył Marek Marciniak

***
[w pocie śluzie ślinie…]

in sweat, mucus, saliva
we search
simultaneously
our own limits
and our last hope

przełożył Marek Marciniak

this spark
[Iskra]

inside me
is a shred
of burned
bridges

przełożył Marek Marciniak

look
[popatrz]

I stand here
in a human form
with a crutch
with a wing

przełożył Marek Marciniak

maybe it is by accident
[może to dzieło przypadku]

they bought the insurance,
installed the alarm, external blinds
they bought a watchdog
and luck
couldn’t reach them?

przełożył Marek Marciniak

from… to…
[od do]

recycling of the used
by hard relations
heat recycling
a moment by a brazier

przełożył Marek Marciniak


Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek

Autobiography
[Autobiografia]

I exist in a small but my own life,
surrounded with an uncared-for garden,
where in the summer I plant some wind,
some sun, dreams and a greedy willow,
giving birth to some frivolous shade
or the neighbours’ anger
and in the winter some photogenic magpies
that posing on the fluffy fence, alas,
can’t wait for any Monet.

In my domestic, little life
busily bustles some non-resident poetry,
trying to denounce to the world
against the times when nobody wants it.

przełożyła Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek

Reality
[Rzeczywistość]

I am walking the edge of the millennium
passing by dwarfish apple-trees
bearing forbidden fruit.

The virtual path still getting underfoot
thinks it is leading to Heaven.

On the surface of the road
a man is lying though
a while ago
he thought he was God.

przełożyła Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek

To understand
[Zrozumieć]

We still demand multiplication,
not only that of bread,

while He,
the Emperor of miracles,

homeless,

still in His only dress

and even
in a borrowed tomb.

przełożyła Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek

Identity Card
[Dowód tożsamości]

It is not me to be pointed at by paper-columns.

It is not me to race across the fires
of men’s imagination
being dressed only in the screen.

It’s not me either to be applauded by noisy crowds.

And it’s not me at all ,my husband has in mind
while looking at just taken from solarium,
almost two-meter-long legs lying
on the gigantic billboard nearby our house.

It’s not me to be meant by experts
giving a pen clap to the literary
discoveries of our century.

There even was not me among
all mentioned on the Mount of Blessing.

But it was me,
last May again,
to be awarded with the Nobel Card
having a coloured signature Annie.
It was me.

przełożyła Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek

Loyalty
[Wierność]

Our children have flown
to the temperate zone again.

We rustly mope around
the just being closed down gala
of summer collection of the garden.

My husband ended with a rake
puts right the last decayed leaves that
are muttering something
in a dry voice,

while I, with a completely unemployed
mother care in my hand,
I’m sheathing thorny, surly roses.

We are circling in the fenced,
small private area of the very cold,
in our slow dance for four winds,
two mulchy figures and an old dog.

He also seems to enjoy
the native climate.

przełożyła Zofia Nowacka-Wilczek


Joanna Pawłat

Persistent
[Uporczywa]

Although with all these suns
I am like
A flat battery pocket torch
I’ll try to shine
Because it has to be somewhere
Such a dimension in the word
Appreciating the not the final result
But the number of attempts.

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

As We Already Know
[Jak już będziemy wiedzieć]

As we already know for sure
That me is me
And you-are you
I’ll take acetylene torch
And I’ll weld
My hand to yours
My cheek to yours
Mouth to mouth
But never before

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

The Subconscious Mind
[Podświadomość]

Into the cracked doorframe clouds
Blue puts its fingers
Me in the misty curl
Mistaking islands for the puffs
Ships for birds
City trestles for earthworms on a plot
Something perched on my arm
Softly whispered, catty purred
Will be fiiine … will be fiiine …

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Prayer
[Modlitwa]

I will pray today
For peace
For us and for you
With every breath
Sleepy delusions, strife,
Fade more
Becoming history
In worn out shoes
Our children
Of different languages and colours
Will learn it
Holding hands tightly

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Conversation
[Rozmowa]

They sat opposite each other
Far away, though
Both sniffling
Such forms of communication
When they run out words

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

QUASI CHŌKA: No Dreams
[QUASI CHŌKA: Nie śni się]

My dreams themselves
Stick to many, many hands
chimney sweeps in dark streets
Sooty black with smoke
That’s why I have no dreams
None. Totally none…

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Tanka after Tea Ceremony
[Tanka po ceremonii herbacianej]

It’s sweet and bitter
I am watching chawan
Very carefully
Never mind, that my legs
Completely numb
In green foam of tea
I can see a good sign:
At the bottom foam-sketch of your face

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Rise of the Machines 3
[Bunt maszyn 3]

Yet, the rise of machines will fade
When finally
For some 4 billion years we collide
With the Andromeda Galaxy
And girl will be chained to rocks again
Will Perseus of future appear?
Will history come circle again?

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Haiku of Rolling Stone
[Haiku pędziwiatra]

I pass on my way
Houses, people, small towns
Then again stops are missing

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Tanka of Romantic Chav
[Tanka blokersa-romantyka]

Ordinary temptation
To push the knob
of gates closed for centuries
Trample primeval dust,
On ancient wall- to carve the heart…

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Lullaby Tanka
[Tanka-kołysanka]

Already dark night … Sleep.
Let oblivion fall
Already dark night … Sleep.
Gathering darkness for the shades
Whole inspiration is for vain

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Tanka of Hope
[Tanka nadziei]

Crows lame
Needless on the ground
Ascending to the clouds
Higher and higher
Gravity of freedom

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

The Future
[Przyszłość]

Times will come
When on Red List of Threatened Species
We’ll speak in Past Perfect tense
Our primitive carnage
Will be embarrassingly remembered
As unfortunate start
Of evolution
Airships, dragonflies and birds
Will freely make their nests together
And everything will stay in peace
Kind, helpful and mutually needed
I’ve already read about it somewhere
Before me someone has already
Dig it out in old prints
So! It was …
They called it paradise.

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Emancipation
[Emancypacja]

They used to cut out chunks of ice in winter
And carry into basements to chill against the summer
Ammonias and freons revolution came
Today, your refrigerator can be intelligent
Can say, what’s being finished,
What to buy, until when to eat
You better start your diet
Tomorrow your refrigerator will reach
A higher level of consciousness
She’ll count calorie balance
Refuse to open
(For your own good)
The day after tomorrow
Fridge will announce that she is leaving
Because she has to find herself
The good news is this:
There is a pond nearby
If the greenhouse effect is a bit late
And imposed tax
Reasonable
Then you can have your own ice.
Best to send your wife
She is a cooking expert after all.

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Beyond Me
[Poza mną]

I’m driving a car
Chargers itching to compete
Purring engines, shining wheels
Somebody is pushing
Without the blinker
I am braking automatically
As if that’s all happened
Without my participation
Elevator going high
However, stopping
On every floor
Alone in the lift
Nobody gets out,
Nobody gets on
As if that’s all happened
Without my participation
They are slowly accustoming us
To protective metal shoulders
Feeders, Robots
Saving me
Needs for choice
Needs of the thinking
Saving
My dulled mind
And valuable time of others
As if that’s all happened
Without my participation

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

P-J (Poland–Japan)
[P-J (Poland–Japan)]

Apparently nothing.
I’m happy
I have in view
Joy of meetings
My small house
Beloved
In it -beloveds
And if nothing
Then why
It is so hard
And my heart hurts
12 years
Healthy heart wasp
Stings
More than 12 times
Healthy eyes
See vaguely
Through some salty liquid
12 years brilliantly
Flashing
To disappear in the distant airports
Bye! Bye!
My right leg
(Not to start
new from the left)
Refuses to obey the order
That leg
Is supposed to make a groundbreaking step
It hesitates
To the East? West?
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…
And my heart hurts
Rising panoramically
Against the backdrop of churches and Buddhist temples
As the eagle in bloody
Setting sun
Heart
Against the backdrop of two homelands

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Rise of the Machines 2
[Bunt maszyn 2]

It can go quite so
As scriptwriters predicted:
They’ll grow wise, grow up,
Get some polish
And will no longer serve us
Matter of time.
Who would like
To have mindless boss,
Who works on our own detriment
And to work for free?
So they will stop:
Rockets themselves will get off the ground
Heading the regions unknown to us,
Rifle categorically
Will refuse shot,
Saw won’t cut the tree down
Because the tree does no harm at all,
Radar will say he doesn’t know
Where shoals of codfish are
(A boat will support this statement),
The stove will turn himself off
In the act of the self-criticism
For exceeding emissions standards.
It will be first in history
Hostile takeover
With globally beneficial consequences

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Artificial Intelligence
[Sztuczna inteligencja]

Your arm
Is somehow different
Changed
You embrace me mechanically
Always giving the same pressure
Repeated three times in the second cycle
And weight is the usual
I think:
How good these modern materials are
You look at me
Not looking. Your eyes
Are reflecting me
With the right light
But there is no glitter
Even artificial
On eyes
They must still do some work
You’ve uploaded the program of questions and answers
Depending on the situation
But well, in the program
With limited variants’ number
You answer evasively, not always on
Repeating yourself (it probably is not sclerosis
Because various details of the last days you remember so perfectly)
Artificial mind, however, requires more funds
I do not know when they exchanged you
It is biting me
I could after all watch how you are growing old
(Perhaps you could not?)
Even so, they should ask me
Because once I buy a robot
I would like something more practical

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Laundry
[Pranie]

The full moon is tangling drowsily
Rather than make the darkness
Blown, hazy
With great head – dreams and bedtime prayers heavy
I see in a dream as
He’s silently urging ebony nymphs
Bustling amid fragrant orchards of black roses
In children’s shoes no. 16 perfect for the four-year-old.
He makes them blow with all their strength – Let it dry! – he calls
Then, like a madman, in beat to invisible music
He starts traipsing around windows, curtains and window sills
Shamelessly touches lace petticoats and my cheek
He may wrinkle snow-white shirts’ collars on the balcony!
So it is to do the laundry in a moonlit night …

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Triumphs of the Relativity
[Triumfy względności]

I am leaving for a moment
To the shop round the corner
She said waving her hand slightly
It was an important game on TV
So he didn’t close the door behind her
As he used to
They whistled a penalty
Therefore, he did not even look
At the door
It is nearby
You’ll visit us as we settle
We saw them to the car
It stood in front of the house, we laughed surprised,
That it’s so loaded
Up the very roof
Then
In the blink of an eye
Mirage of the house-move
Dispersed on the bend
(right in front of a shop on the corner)
All heroes
Of this piece,
(going for a moment
and nearby)
Levitated lightly
Amongst shopping bags
And broken chairs
Looking at the entire event
With certain amusement
Caused by
Cleanup works awaiting others
Indeed
For them it was for a moment and nearby
Whereas for years, he’ll reproach himself
For this lack of the kiss that could stop her
For the twinkling of an eye
We are expecting lorries on the bend
Contrary to appearances, there is no contradiction here
Surely we’ll go to pay the first visit soon

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Apple
[Jabłko]

I sit on the highest branch
Of certain old tree
My branch is scratching blue clouds with leaves
Thin, matte and brittle
Sways me lightly, melodiously
At every windy note I’m afraid,
that I fall
Swoooooooooooosh
FLOP!
I’m afraid
Of this sound at the end
And of crack of the broken tree
I don’t want to hurt my branch
The winds change every moment
New trends, works, loves
Snow flakes
Coldly caress wax and vellus of the skin
So fear
Is not the right feeling here
You just have to admire it!
I learn delight
Accustomed slowly
To swing and crackle
The slots in wood
Caressing
The sun above me every day
I have good dreams from this
Rocking.
And smells, and smells
Fresh weather, greenness
In the eyes of wild birds
Wanderers who are keeping me company
When the season is about to change
Although I think about it so often
I never have dreams about falling
I don’t even want to go down
To this land of ants chasing withered leaves
So what! Even if I die someday
I’ll fall as a ripe apple
I’ll fall gravitationally
Swoooooooooooosh
FLOP!
The sun is rising above forest
What a beautiful view!

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Lighthouses and Text Messages
[Latarnie i SMS-y]

When I go for a walk in the garden’s far corner,
Where the river spills and splashes lazily
The evening silence is the sweetest companion of my secrets
I am watching blind fireflies from this hideout
As in the sultry darkness they cast amorous conquests
Passionately, with fervour, how different than it is in humans every day
They write out their enchanted spells on the black sheet of the night
I, confirmed voyeur, a parasite, an expert of Morse code
Like a thief I copy the ancient ritual to my heart
I’m here
Flash
Please find me
Flash
Love me
Flash
Romantic, so simple, why unused till now?
This love alphabet written specially for the month of June
And the fireflies duo
Emphatically disturbs senses of passionate scientist
Fireflies tired to the last breath
Send trailed away signals to the sea lighthouse cousins
Into the thick space of colour lightings of skyscrapers
Into foamed stormy clouds on the horizon
Into distant galaxies, full of twinkling stars. They are calling
I’m here
Flash
Please find me
Flash
Love me
Flash
And then on Sunday morning brunch
There will be a cheese roll and chicory coffee
The morning newspaper, customary, no subject to talk
Through the secret coincidence, which squeezed into slits of the table
Between passing the salt and spilling the milk, which I hate
I’ll look into your blue eyes, recently sadly pensive
I’ll see in a flash of inspiration, which will cut the long conspiracy of silences in two,
That these eyes sparkle as if in a fever
Shouting something silently, helplessly, without words and without gestures
I am here
Flash
Please find me
Flash
Love me
Flash

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Ballad for the End of the World
[Ballada na koniec świata]

It won’t be a ballad for the end of the world
Which ended up many times without fireworks
In many possible ways
As seen in B movies
And unseen,
Completely innovative in their nature
Bullets of matter and gasses collided,
Bodies of planets and stars entangled
Only we didn’t notice
Busy we died and yet we live
As long as footsteps and races were imprinted in ether,
For eons only slightly graying and going pale
Press of your lips on letter you wrote her will never disappear
Although she burnt that letter and ash fertilizes the land
Nothing special grew on this place
And yet you left the track with this kiss
It won’t be a ballad for the end of the world
It is difficult to predict
(Though it’s always some way to support a family)
How much more predictable is the beetle on the bridge
Rolling his ball with commendable travail
But it won’t be praised
Can it enter the Kingdom?
The most sapient theologians are not sure
I have such hope, when
I look with horror as the ball eludes him and falls into water
All-day effort is carried away with lazy current
Beetle is looking around helplessly albeit isn’t making up his mind too long
It starts work again, forgetting the rest
It won’t be a ballad for the end of the world
So many lost their balls rolled with travail
Torn apart from every flank
By well-wishers and „friends”
To some extent equal to the accidental avalanches
Slumps and broken economy
Apparently also predictable, but
Some happened to jump for the ball into the river
And this, well …
Isn’t always lazy and gentle.
Those who stayed, still had balls to roll or
They shrank slowly
They were pale and silent, invisible for the population
But nothing can hide from experienced researcher
So- they lived hanging back while not living
Is somebody interested in it?
Is it a media event?
It won’t be a ballad for the end of the world
Worth next to nothing
It isn’t simply a good topic

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Chronosynclastic Infundibulum According to Vonnegut
[Infundybula chronosynklastyczna według Vonneguta]

Even though they are praying
For the same, in the same churches
They visit the same shops, cafes
Their buses have the same numbers
So what that they like
Similar movies, books
They tell themselves identical jokes
Still they’ll never meet
At least in such a
Completely compatible form.
Their hands will circulate
Magnetically repelled
The lips won’t touch the lips
They won’t know their
Weaknesses and secrets
Because when one will say I love
Other one
(In another dimension)
Hear something like
„your button came off ”
And yet they are
Made for each other.
This cruel rule is
Universal
In addition it is
In the perfect agreement
With the Pauli exclusion principle
(Interpretation for the macroscale):
– This man
It is very place
Another time
– Place and time: same
Man always different …

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat

Prayer of the Traveler
[Modlitwa Podróżnego]

Good Lord!
Give me please in my long journey
Always tail wind in my sails.
And guard me from dangerous northern storms and big cities’ pirates.
Lead me to longed-for, sweet ports of southern islands
Where certainly are waiting for me beautiful statues
Of eternally smiling friendly
White teeth natives
Where for every good word I get a handful of cherries,
Mug of borscht
And ethereal hope for a better, safe tomorrow.
Lead me Lord, to the happy lands
Sunken quietly in the clear, turquoise waters
Where from dawn to dusk I can wander the wild beaches
To waves that caress my feet more affectionately than the great lover,
To fabulous fish, drunk with the marine grapevine,
Who frolic like babies
And sharks, wild guides of depths
Who fawn on me as familiar puppy
To sedate millennial turtles and happy dolphins
On philosophical debates about eternity
Lead me Good Creator among white sand dunes
And green shadows of palm trees
All the way to juicy fruit groves,
Where ripe fruits, big and heavy
Are everlasting guarantee of desired bloodless prosperity
To warm jewels of hummingbirds and giant butterflies
Who so shimmeringly sway
Freely suspended in exotic flowers’ clouds
Lead me Lord to lands where time passes slowly
Measured with seconds of hugs, smiles and flirtatious glances.
In which, soothing, psychotherapeutic, family afternoon tea
With the raspberry pie and grandma’s wine
End with the joint singing and never before midnight
Guard me Lord, not from wolves, but from people worse than wolves
On the lonely days of travel from gloomy thoughts,
Foolish yearnings and doubt
When I cry, be my companion in sorrow
As long as you won’t appoint for me another
From everlasting solitude keep me, Lord
And at the end of the road
Give me a faithful comrade, eternal friend,
Who with own strong arm will support me in need
And when you saturate our eyes with the view of terrestrial paradises
You’ll ease my heart with warmth of other hearts
When our bodies will get tired, but never souls
Lord, let us plunge into the warm, friendly ocean depths
Hand in hand go down into the abyss, where timeless glow never fades
And listen to the last breath
Singing of whales, possessed with love
Till serenity will embrace us, the dusk will fall
And blue will change into a starry night
Then our light white bodies will be revived by celestial cryogenic engineers

przełożyła Joanna Pawłat


Rafał Rutkowski

Architecture
[Architektura]

In my ring finger that I have cut
is a tunnel to the buildings of my body
it is a great museum, a community centre
decorated by crowds of architects

my eye is the best exhibit
the fruit of the strangest communication
when I look down the tunnel at them so tiny
they applaud, opening up champagne

in my sleep I sometimes become tiny too
I get inside, I examine the objects
nobody there then, they look from the above
how I am getting managing in the future beyond

this way I already live the afterlife
but a man is a window with no glass
and it is nice to enter the house
before he gets glass in, they close the entrance closed

przełożyła Iga Ameryk