TILBAKE

Side commentary
Translated from Polish by Joanna Trzeciak Huss

I was not made
from dust,
nor unto dust
will I return.
I did not come down
from heaven,
nor will I return there.
Like a glass vault
I am the heavens.
I am the earth
like the fertile soil.
I did not escape
from anywhere,
nor will I return
there.
I know of no other beyond, beyond myself.
In the full lungs of the wind
and in the calcified rocks,
scattered
here
I must
find
myself.

[Translation first published in Washington Square Review]

Escape
Translation from Polish by Joanna Trzeciak Huss

Ablaze with color, a garden gone wild sticks out like a wick.
Add a touch of red, hot like fire, and the soil will burst like a bomb.
Proud peacock of iridescent enamel struts in the sun
behind a tapestry of maples arrayed in green rows.

That’s daytime: sunflowers circling bright sparks of buttercups,
lacquered maple leaves and haughty garish peacocks.
Midnight bright as high noon from the gloss and glitter of lightning.
Bolt after bolt it lights up the trees with nothing but glitter and gloss.

I circle lonely rooms, pondering the inscrutable garden,
I gaze at grey upholstery, ensconced in creaks and rustles,
I—the only known earth amidst planets orbiting lifelessly,
amidst matters of overt color and covert, obscure content—

I gaze into standing pools of mirrors and float to the surface as if drowned
with worried hand I feel my eye and probe its bony orbit
then the scream—I rush into the peacock bright garden, 
copper trees ablaze, and lilacs white hot.

I dive into the brimming chestnuts, into the swaying of hazels and willows, 
into the bustle of hazy appearances and covert and obscure content—
I weep in sorrow, 
kissing on the lips,
bursting out laughing,
and furrowing my brow,
What I am left with in life is life
to forget death to death.

[Translation first published in Pleiades]

—
Infidelity („Zdrada”)

Performed by Nocą Umówieni + Airis String Quartet
Music by Katarzyna Sałapa
Performed at a „Lato w Synagodze Pod Białym Bocianem” concert at the White Stork Synagogue in Wrocław, Poland.
Translation from Polish by Joanna Trzeciak Huss

Nobody can stop me.
Sin of suede and bats
its mousish head hanging down in the attic of fear
At dusk I will slip out of the tower, from the fortified tower
I will escape through the cutting sharp wasps,
a pillory of poisoned herbs –

The crushing crags of the commandments will arduously rise from the rubble,
the twenty hells of the Vedas,
flames,
howl
and whistle
a fanatical night will threaten, stoning with stars,
I will slip through fingers like Mercury.
Nothing can stop me.

You will turn into a wolf, I, a wagtail –
you into the eagle, I into the winding wonders – –
With inscrutable intent I will forestall you in your chase.
The world won’t stop me
oh my love – oh my dear – oh my sweet one
unless I myself
choose
a sweet May
fidelity.

To another
Translation from Polish by Joanna Trzeciak Huss

It’s easy for you to fall in love.
harder to stay in love. So be it. 
This is not altogether bad. 
Nor an obstacle, as I see it. 

It would be easy for me to love you
despite this poor arrangement
but I cannot fall in love with you
and I’m powerless to change it. 

Virginity
Translated from Polish by Joanna Trzeciak Huss

We…
A frenzy of hazel trees, disheveled by rain,
a scented nutty buttery crush.
Cows give birth in the humid air
in barns, blazing like stars. 
O, ripe currants and lush grains
Sapid to overbrimming.
O, she-wolves feeding their young, 
their eyes sweet like lilies.
Sap drips like apiary honey.
Goat udders sag like pumpkins.
The white milk flows like eternity
in the temples of maternal bosoms.

And we…
in cubes of peach wallpaper
like steel thermoses
hermetic beyond contemplation
entangled up to our necks in dresses 
conduct
proper
conversations. 

[Translation first published in New Ohio Review]