(Translated by Jaroslaw Zawadzki)
So many rhymes upon the festive tables,
Of metaphor: about big funerals,
About the toil of flails, henhouses, stables,
Inquiries, jails within some pigsty walls,
In those amnesic times.
So much drab fate onto a paper sheet
Can he commit and tie it all with ink
Of proper poems in a cozy seat?
- For democrats that in the bushes sink
- The toady laureate.
With so much zest can he conjoin and talk:
Of children-angels on the Iraqi sky,
Thistles and goldfinches behind a mirage balk,
The stench of rotting guts and tux that lie
Upon the land unblest.
Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 02/2012
Jarek Zawadzki has translated this poem very neatly and we thank very much. This poem is really thought provoking and thoughtful....10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A well crafted piece. Thanks for sharing