National Poetry Month

[brigdh]

Try to Praise the Mutilated World Adam Zagajewski, translated by Clare Cavanagh

Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June's long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You've seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the grey feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that stays and vanishes
and returns.

Comments

[b-hallward.livejournal.com]

Love, love, love. God, it makes me wish I knew polish.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

And yeah. I had no idea there were so many wonderful Polish poets before I started gathering poems to post.

[b-hallward.livejournal.com]

Nah, Poland is apparently where it's at when it comes to post-WWII poetry. And that particular combination of spareness and lyricism you tend to find just slays me.