Untitled Poem
we’ve been left in the cold.
knocked out cold, huddled up against
the cold, for five years, in the circle.
underneath our feet, the world changes,
the earth trembles – a black line
we tread on
as on a rope.
at night the genie comes out of the lamp
to flood us
with violet light
just like in a fairy tale.
you cannot fall asleep
when bears won’t scare of the flare
and our boat rocks
with fear or
laughter.
all the changes you note down
are our polar
child.
our lifebelt.
we leave
the ice.
playing in the sand
“let’s grab the toy rake and kick
the bucket,” says the mother
to her little son.
first come, first served
they glance at each other furtively,
sometimes they would mention
the harvest or the last will, but
immediately they bite
their tongues, go back to their
business. the days grow slowly
like white strings of hair on
wrinkled skin:
meals forced down their throats, as
if against themselves,
snatches of words, dreams in black
and white. they know already:
November is the month when leaves
fall down
on graves, the dead get warmer and
the living
colder. the race started a long time
ago but still
there is no end to it, as there is
no beginning. each night
each of them individually prays to
be awarded
this honour, to be rewarded with
this absence
of pain.
rucksack
a long time ago I wanted to walk
along the seashore
gathering pebbles for my loved one.
I am thinking about it know, walking
through
the beach all alone, with nothing
better in view
than the naked breasts of elderly
ladies.
so I start fishing out of the sea
the shapely ones which, however,
fade
when dry.
I’ll be with you soon,
sit down and ask
what I should do with them.
and you will reply –
put
them into your rucksack.
rainstorm is reflected in the puddles
after a show of stars when
our necks began to hurt
for fear of a rain
of stones,
a rain fell down
and for a moment
it completely cut us off
from the world.
Translations by Adam Zdrodowski
WOJCIECH BRZOSKA (1978) – poet and occasionally a musician, graduate of the Faculty of
Cultural Studies, the University of Silesia; author of 11 collections of
poetry: Blisko coraz dalej (2000), Niebo nad Sosnowcem (2001), Wiersze podejrzane (2003), Sacro casco (2006), Przez judasza (2008), Drugi
koniec wszystkiego (2010), W każdym momencie, na przyjście i odejście
(2015), Jutro nic dla nas nie ma
(2017).Ucho środkowe (2020), Plejady (2021), Senny ofsajd (2022). He debuted in
the literary press in 1998. Since then he has published in cultural and
literary magazines in Poland and abroad, including “Tygodnik Powszechny,”
“Przekrój,” “Kwartalnik Artystyczny,” “Studium,” “Lampa,” “Manuskripte”
(Austria), “Ostragehege” (Germany), “Cordite Poetry Review” (Australia),
“Sodobnost” (Slovenia), and in numerous anthologies. His poems have been
translated into English, German, Czech, Slovak, Slovenian, Serbian and Spanish.
In the years 2003-2005 he coedited Magazyn Literacki “Kursywa.” He was the
first laureate of Nagroda Otoczaka (2007), a poetry prize given for the best
collection of poetry published in Poland in 2006. He participated in several
literary festivals, including Days of Poetry and Wine in Medana (Slovenia),
Conrad Festival in Krakow, the Bruno Schulz festival in Wrocław. He is the frontman of Brzoska i Gawroński, with
which he recorded three albums: Nunatak
(2012), Słońce, lupa i mrówki (2015)
and Zapominanie (2019). At the moment he also forms part of the trio
Brzoska/Marciniak/Markiewicz (their album Brodzenie
was released in January 2018 and the second Wpław in 2019)) where he
melorecites his poems.The newest band has the name Piksele (Pixels) and his
album Martwe (2020). He works in a prison where he organises concerts and
readings. He inaugurated the National Jean Genet Poetry Competition for
inmates. He lives in Katowice.
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