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***
I have written many poems
I have burnt many poems in fire
As I thought so
That the poetry will go up in smoke
The poetry will fly in the clouds
It will shine like a rainbow after a storm
Let the sky be light
Let it not become overcast
And when a storm has already come
As it must be so
Let it not thunder so grimly
But let it hum like a harp does
There will be a downpour after the storm
With lightening in the sky
But that will pass by
It will be still more beautiful and also
A breeze will blow up
Trees will open their leaves and flowers
Should I cry
No I am laughing
***
I am glad that I live
And why yet?
For there is the sun and the sky over me
For everything on earth is blooming nicely
And there would be still
something to be glad of
That instead of spokes in my wheels
Roses had better grow there
Even though with thorns
***
It is so nice of you
Fire glows so in your eyes
I am allured
A couple of signs, a couple of words
I understand you already
Maybe the others don't like it
Maybe the others express more in words
I like and esteem you
I see a rainbow in your eyes
No one of some people understands you
I'll interpret your signs in words
That you think the same way, feel the same
And sometimes still the more beautiful
MY SONG
My song
Is very silent
It doesn't sound
But in myself
it hums like music
As many colors
As colors of flowers
As many sighs
as fragrances of lilac
Words aren't needed for it any more
My song, My song
Is dumb
It won't fly in the world
And it is colorful
Like a child's dress
A colorful dress
The meadow is colorful
and so is its every flower
Like a child's dress
A girl jumps in time
with the music
her feet rise
On the silvery dew
The meadow is colorful
The flying butterflies are colorful
And around so many colors oh so many
How many colors?
How many sun rays?
I'd like to give it to people
So that they live happily forever
***
The sea ebbs, flows
We look on the wave from afar
Now it goes up, then down
Sometimes it takes the shape of a harp
The Angels will play the harp
Like at the church choir
Like the organ blooms
Resembling thunders
Like the sea storms
Raise their glory to the heaven
The sky clears up
The nymph utters its silent sound
The rainbow glitters in the clouds
Like a blessing of the heaven
***
My song won't fly out of my mouth any more
And I had the voice like a nightingale's song
Because I'm deaf
Although the sun shines so nicely
My voice isn't the same any more
So I'm humming silently
No sound gets out of my throat
Yet I hear my sounds
And I thump the time on the tabletop
I feel as if I was pressing the keys
And then I imagine I hear
by Jerzy Orczykowski
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THE SHELTER
Closed in a glass balloon
in a monstrously swollen silence
I look at the world of thousand colors
that I cannot hear!
And maybe I don't even want to...
nestled down in my shelter!
The prisoner with a verdict for perpetuity
can take a fancy to the prison.
An adaptation of the soul,
an adaptation of the body...
And only sometimes the pining
that has survived, will cry...
(1998)
TEARS OF THE HANDS
They try to do complain for the lips
they're just a child's hands holding out,
they try to say about their suffering,
that they aren't guilty of.
Old people's toil-worn hands,
worn out of seeking to obtain bread,
they ask for help with a dumb complaint,
for defense in their life.
And the hands of those who where
able to overcome the speech decrease,
deliver plaintive entreaties,
of immemorial deaf suffering.
Who will reply the dumb appeals,
like once, thousands years ago,
Jesus leant over the deaf ears,
with his holy word 'Effetha'.
by Petronela Pawłowska |
