{"id":3579,"date":"2013-06-06T08:44:44","date_gmt":"2013-06-06T07:44:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/duszka.ehost.pl\/?p=3579"},"modified":"2019-09-24T09:38:44","modified_gmt":"2019-09-24T08:38:44","slug":"3579","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/?p=3579","title":{"rendered":""},"content":{"rendered":"

Tym razem prze\u0142o\u017cony na English ca\u0142y  tomik pt. „Galeria \u015awiat”. <\/strong>
\nTHE GALLERY WORLD<\/strong><\/p>\n

(AUTHOR) Autorka : Maria Duszka, Ludowa Sp\u00f3\u0142dzielnia Wydawnicza 2007<\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

we still know nothing<\/p>\n

we are like children
\nstanding at the doorstep<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

today I will visit you<\/p>\n

my heart is above me
\nlike a lark<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE QUESTION<\/strong><\/p>\n

For S\u0142awek<\/p>\n

we parted without words
\ntime accustoms itself to loneliness<\/p>\n

only when I come here
\nbirches
\njasmines
\ngrass and mulleins
\nare asking
\nwhat I am doing here
\nwithout you<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

standing by the window
\nI surrender to space
\nI stop the time<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

before I met you
\nI liked only
\nthat birch wood
\nthe meadow
\nthe dark sappy strip of alders
\nand the tender air above them<\/p>\n

they sufficiently fulfilled
\nmy need
\nto admire something<\/p>\n

and you came
\nobscuring the trees
\nthe meadow<\/p>\n

with peace and indifference
\nequalling theirs
\nyou accept my love<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I was at the bottom
\nmany times<\/p>\n

I was deep
\nthen saved by the Lord<\/p>\n

He sent for me
\nwhen I was at the bottom<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I lie in the forest<\/p>\n

birches bless me
\nwith their branches<\/p>\n

Ma\u0142y\u0144 1997<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

the first love
\nlike a lightning
\nshows an open sky<\/p>\n

then darkness
\nfor long<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

for heart anxiety
\na prayer
\nlike a sleeping pill
\nor
\na thought of your hands
\nso gentle
\nso safe<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

„Everything is more and more grey now… „<\/em><\/p>\n

K.<\/p>\n

the birds sang
\ntheir \u201ecarpe diem\u201d
\nin burning trees
\nthat autumn<\/p>\n

now
\nwhen you are absent
\nmore often
\nI do not approach the window
\nurgently I do anything
\nnot to hear their singing
\nto forget
\nthat you usually were here
\nat that time<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201eWhat is smaller or bigger than a hand touch…\u201d<\/p>\n

Paul Eluard<\/p>\n

it’s been a year<\/p>\n

you would come cold in the snow
\nasking
\nwhat did you do with me
\nand you \u2013 with me…<\/p>\n

I watched the night lamp
\nx-raying your eyes from aside
\nwe would listen
\n\u201edo not be afraid of love…\u201d<\/p>\n

I would observe you come
\nand go<\/p>\n

it’s been a year<\/p>\n

with the hand touch
\nas clean and light as snow
\nyou wake light in me<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

A village fool
\nsits at his mother’s grave
\ntaking his knees in hands
\nswinging
\nhe repeats:
\n\u201emum in ground
\nground in mum…\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

you tell me
\nyou want everything<\/p>\n

and I just want to live
\nin your heart
\nas if it were a safe home<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

when sitting facing me
\nyou said \u201e as the talk to her…\u201d
\nI was sure
\nyou overestimated your and my abilities
\n\u201epropheting the coming of summer thunder\u201d<\/p>\n

I learned all your good
\nand your evil<\/p>\n

wisely did I reject
\nmeetings and telephones<\/p>\n

I destroyed and threw out
\nall the little things
\nyou gave me<\/p>\n

this town is more and more full of you<\/p>\n

I am like a leaf weakly sticking to the branch<\/p>\n

the hurricane pushes me in your direction<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

sometimes I envy
\nthe dog
\nwhich is petted by you<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

a prayer:
\npushing off the darkness<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

you wise astronomer
\nwhy did you share with us
\nyour knowledge
\nthat the earth is
\na revolving
\nsphere
\nin the sky abyss<\/p>\n

we would be calmer
\nhaving
\nunder our feet
\na motionless
\nflat sphere
\nof undefined thickness
\n(even if protected
\nby Atlas’ shoulders)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

the most faithful reflection of the world
\nis not the face
\nof evil
\nor good
\nnor is it the face
\nof the one
\nwho knows
\nalmost everything
\nbut
\nit is the face of an idiot<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong>
\nin my wardrobe I hanged
\nyour jacket<\/p>\n

all my clothes
\nwant to be close to it<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

when we are to die
\n(though earlier we said
\nit was not worth living)
\nthe world takes colours
\nand clear contours
\nlike a summer in August<\/p>\n

and all the moments
\nwhich were
\nand which still could be
\nare suddenly highly valued<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

birds sing
\nin the burning branches of trees<\/p>\n

summer is gone<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

to wash off you from myself I use the hands eyes lips
\nof other men I take trips with them to anywhere
\nsend them letters and smiles dye my hair for them
\nwhich turned grey beacuse of you and when you are back
\nI mock you and offend you with my last (which one?)
\nfarewell letter
\nno progress in forgetting<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

trees are
\nwhat was left for us
\nfrom paradise<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

when you met me
\nthe house was filled
\nwith great silence<\/p>\n

silently we listened to the prophecy
\n\u201ewe will wake up nestled…\u201d<\/p>\n

today we sit among grass
\nI listen to your monologue:
\nthe best poetry
\nI know<\/p>\n

your hands
\nand herbs
\nso close<\/p>\n

far ahead of us
\na town
\nkids playing kites
\n\u201e at the summer noon…\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

grey colour has many shades<\/p>\n

I noticed it recently
\nin your eyes<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

autumn is drowned in rain and fog<\/p>\n

you do not leave my thoughts<\/p>\n

I drown peacefully
\nin your eyes
\nin your hands<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

you tell me
\nyou want everything<\/p>\n

for me it is enough
\nto look through the window
\non your side
\nand think you are here<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

after twenty two years
\nfrom the beginning of our love
\nwe talk about men
\nwho are running double life
\nthey have wives and mistresses
\n(they can afford it)<\/p>\n

I ask
\nwould you like to live
\nlike they do<\/p>\n

\u201eI think I would like you doubled\u201d,
\nyou answer<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

a lift to heaven<\/p>\n

to your flat
\non the eighth floor<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

common women
\ngive birth to children<\/p>\n

God muddles up CVs
\nof poetesses
\nso that they give birth
\nto poems<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

every evening
\nI report by phone
\nto you all my actions
\nups and downs<\/p>\n

I start from \u201e I got up at 7 AM…\u201d<\/p>\n

you listen
\nand then you say
\n\u201eI also got up at 7 AM today
\nI went to the bathroom
\nand went to sleep\u201d<\/p>\n

it’s been years since I cannot decide
\nwhich one of us is right<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I like to know
\nthe place I am standing<\/p>\n

even if it is
\na bottom<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

June is
\nlike
\nbeing eighteen years of age<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

„TO THOSE WHO GIVE MUCH WILL BE GIVEN”<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201e I always work
\nas best as I can
\nwhy then I always
\nsuffer from paucity\u201d,
\nshe complained to God in her prayer<\/p>\n

next day she was given a reply
\nthe best reply of all possible
\n\u201ebe generous for yourself and for the others\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

stop
\nlook through the window
\n(there is
\nnearly always
\na poem
\ndown there)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

NEARLY EVERYBODY TURNED THEIR BACK<\/strong><\/p>\n

it was a beautiful October
\nSzymborska won the Nobel Prize<\/p>\n

every day I was visited
\nby a drunk criminal
\nhe claimed to love me
\nand if I were not with him
\nhe would kill me and himself<\/p>\n

I advised him to start off killing from himself
\nhe seemed not to have noticed the joke<\/p>\n

the policemen said
\nthey could start an action against him
\nonly when he killed me<\/p>\n

a VIP from cultural department said
\n\u201eno wonder you face those problems
\nwhen you write such poems\u201d<\/p>\n

one of my man brothers said
\n\u201eyou have count only on yourself\u201d<\/p>\n

the man of my life
\nof whom I wrote about
\nmy best poems said
\n\u201e I am not involved
\nas I am here
\nand it happens there\u201d<\/p>\n

and God made me aware
\njust then
\nthat He wants gratitude from me
\nfor the life
\nas it is<\/p>\n

I live<\/p>\n

I am grateful<\/p>\n

I worship my loneliness<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

PALM SUNDAY, 2005 AFTER THE BIRTH OF CHRIST<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201e with that He bowed His head
\nand gave up His Spirit\u201d<\/p>\n

we kneel<\/p>\n

the man in front of me
\nyawns<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE FREE MAN<\/strong><\/p>\n

he pushed his wheelbarrow with cardboard
\nhis eyes were beyond that<\/p>\n

the ragamuffin with charisma<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201e you who wronged a simple man
\nbursting into laughter at the crime\u201d<\/p>\n

Czes\u0142aw Mi\u0142osz<\/p>\n

in 1980 they said
\n\u201ewe fight for workers’ dignity\u201d<\/p>\n

in 2004
\nto the unemployed
\nwho came
\nfor a job interview
\nenters a little director
\nof a small company and says
\n\u201e I need five himbos
\nand five cows…\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

Let’s fight one another,
\nPoles<\/p>\n

our neighbours
\n(enemies)
\nalready
\n(again)
\nare rubbing their hands<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

you are getting sober:
\nhold me tight
\ncoz I feel
\nI am becoming
\na human garbage<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

why do we multiply?
\nwhy do we produce weapons
\non our planet Earth?<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE CICUTA OF KNOWLEDGE<\/strong><\/p>\n

he said before his death
\n\u201elife is so
\nthat those
\nwho take it from us
\nare our benefactors\u201d<\/p>\n

then,
\nSocrates,
\nwhat
\nwith our parents?…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

my mother delivered me
\nto the world<\/p>\n

my mother is good
\ngentle
\nand simple
\nlike a child<\/p>\n

I cannot blame her
\nthat she turned me in
\nto the world<\/p>\n

Ma\u0142y\u0144 1986<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/em><\/p>\n

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT<\/strong><\/p>\n

we talked<\/p>\n

in a distance from us
\na little four-year-old boy
\nwearing a yellow\/navy-blue jacket
\nstopped<\/p>\n

looking at you,
\na man approaching fifty,
\nhe said \u201ecome here\u201d<\/p>\n

we did not stop talking<\/p>\n

after a while the boy strongly repeated
\n\u201ecome here\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201ewhy should I come to you?\u201d,
\nyou asked<\/p>\n

\u201ecoz I have only my mummy\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

AFTER 20 YEARS OD LIVING IN SIERADZ<\/strong><\/p>\n

a Sunday afternoon<\/p>\n

acacias and clovers in full bloom<\/p>\n

their smell takes me
\nto a different time and place
\ncausing pain<\/p>\n

I will never be \u201efrom here\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

THE GALLERY WORLD<\/strong><\/p>\n

snow flakes
\ntree leaves
\nnone of them is repeated<\/p>\n

God is a perfect artist<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am left at home alone<\/p>\n

submerged in silence and solitude<\/p>\n

after an hour
\nI feel like phoning you
\nto tell you
\nhow well I feel at home alone<\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

he is bright
\ngentle
\nand true
\nas a touch
\nof a birch twig<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

LOVE<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have not seen you for many days<\/p>\n

you are standing now
\nfacing me
\nlike a sea<\/p>\n

I am standing facing you
\nhelpless<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

before you turned up
\nI had dreamt off your eyes
\nand all the heaven
\nof years shared with you<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

years rolling on
\nround and empty<\/p>\n

I wait for a few summer days<\/p>\n

a touch of your lips
\nmust suffice
\nfor the next year
\nor for good<\/p>\n

the blood in my veins
\nchanges
\ninto waiting
\npulsating
\nand turning me
\nin your direction<\/p>\n

nothing better
\nthan your arms<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

you gave me love
\nlike a storm
\nlike a sharp knife<\/p>\n

you gave me love<\/p>\n

full of light and air<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I wake up
\nat four AM<\/p>\n

in my thoughts a trace of a prayer
\nfrom before going to sleep
\nso as not to suffer
\nfrom each moment
\nof your absence<\/p>\n

at four AM
\nan answer for a prayer comes
\nreminding me some lines of a song:
\n\u201e which one of our loves
\nis just
\nthe last one…?\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

so many times
\nI kissed this love goodbye<\/p>\n

it was covered by yellow leaves
\nit was parted by our time
\nlike a fog<\/p>\n

one summer
\nwe could not find ourselves
\nand thought
\nnothing could save us<\/p>\n

but suddenly
\ndry leaves leave it
\nthe fog is gone<\/p>\n

our hearts again high above us
\nand our love is green again<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I told you on the phone
\nI am bored with talks to you<\/p>\n

(I lied,
\nyou have been silent for two weeks)<\/p>\n

you see
\nI am a clever student
\nin your school
\nof dealing blows<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

he looked through the window
\nin a very foggy morning
\n\u201eoh, the world is gone…\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

meeting you accidentally<\/p>\n

as if God
\npetted me on the cheek<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am woken up
\nby a steady rainy blues<\/p>\n

an autumn morning<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

a day in my travel<\/p>\n

I do not open a book<\/p>\n

I read the world<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

the Lord has done
\ngreat things for me<\/p>\n

He gave me a sandy road
\nin a field with birches
\na blackthorn
\nand wild roses
\na wanderer with eyes
\nof a clear sky
\na cordial arnica
\nand field pears<\/p>\n

I can go where
\nonly sky
\nfield and wind exist<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

in memory of people close to me<\/em><\/p>\n

and yet it seemed
\nthey would last forever
\nin that chamomile yard
\nin that warm house
\nin that safe bed<\/p>\n

they are blown out by time \u2013 one by one<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

A MORNING<\/strong><\/p>\n

in memory of Zbyszek Dominiak<\/em><\/p>\n

I am afraid to open my eyes
\nI am afraid to open the curtains<\/p>\n

the world is a scorpion<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

x x x<\/strong><\/p>\n

when cherries bloom
\nthe Japanese
\ndo not work
\nthey celebrate a holiday<\/p>\n

even in big town centres
\nthey sit for several days
\nunder the blooming trees
\nfeeling no pity for elapsing time
\nthey sit until cherry petals are gone<\/p>\n

filled up with the beauty they go back to work<\/p>\n

at my housing development
\nan old plum orchard
\nwas cut down unnecessarily<\/p>\n

the neighbours say
\nit will be order here at last
\nwe will not be a second Japan<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Tym razem prze\u0142o\u017cony na English ca\u0142y  tomik pt. „Galeria \u015awiat”. THE GALLERY WORLD (AUTHOR) Autorka : Maria Duszka, Ludowa Sp\u00f3\u0142dzielnia Wydawnicza 2007 x x x we still know nothing we are like children standing at the doorstep   x x…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[32],"tags":[1098,1092,1086,1107,1081,1100,1083,1096,1104,1105,519,1106,1082,750,419,183,202,552,1103,1087,1097,1091,1089,1073,1090,1070,1095,1101,1093,1071,1068,418,772,1085,1088,1102,1099,1080,1094,1084],"class_list":["post-3579","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-english","tag-a-lift-to-haeven","tag-birds-singing","tag-carpe-diem","tag-cherries-bloom","tag-death","tag-dog","tag-first-love","tag-fog","tag-free-man","tag-freedom","tag-hanami","tag-japan","tag-love","tag-malyn","tag-marek-marciniak","tag-maria-duszka","tag-maria-duszka-galeria-swiat","tag-maria-duszka-marek-marciniak-przeklad-na-jezyk-angielski","tag-palm-sunday","tag-paul-eluard","tag-poem-about-autumn","tag-poems-about-astronomer","tag-poems-about-city","tag-poems-about-death","tag-poems-about-dog","tag-poems-about-love","tag-poems-about-rain","tag-poems-about-summer","tag-poems-about-trees","tag-poems-about-village","tag-poems-from-poland","tag-poezja-milosna","tag-poezja-polska-przeklad-na-jezyk-angielski","tag-prayer","tag-safe-home","tag-summer","tag-the-gallery-world","tag-time","tag-tree","tag-village-fool"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3579","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3579"}],"version-history":[{"count":15,"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3579\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":8614,"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3579\/revisions\/8614"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3579"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3579"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/maria.duszka.pl\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3579"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}