PART 1 of 2: 40 poems by Halina Poswiatowska / Marek
Marek W Lugowski
-- PART I of 40 poems by Halina Poswiatowska -------------------------------
Dear Reader,
This file contains 40 poems of Halina Poswiatowska's translated into
English, each one followed by its Polish-language original. The
English translations ought to be considered to be unauthorized drafts
wrought in haste as public service to the Internet community which I
regard as a common carrier, not a publication market. While this
distribution is informal and meant only to increase the cognizance of
Halina Poswiatowska's verse among English speakers, it is a fact that
the Polish originals are covered by a 1975 Copyright Notice posted in
_Wiersze Wybrane_, a 1989 compendium released in Krakow, Poland, by
Wydawnictwo Literackie and edited by Jan Zych. I used this book as my
source. (p. 17), for example, is a reference to page 17 in that
source. (Marek #5), or just #5, on the other hand, reflects the order
in which I translated. No material gain was derived from this effort.
Here is an echo of my Unix directory listing showing which poems are
included in this file. The first number indicates approximate file size,
the second identifies the poem according to the Polish page number:
marek iuvax 43: ls -s
total 165
2 100 2 170 2 223 2 31 3 386 2 54
3 118 2 176 2 226 2 32 3 400 3 68
3 139 2 18 2 240 2 324 2 403 2 73
2 144 2 180 5 245 3 33 2 414 2 84
2 163 4 19 2 262 3 337 2 415 2 97
2 166 2 206 2 291 2 35 2 421 72 forty
3 17 2 207 2 305 1 38 3 422
This file is "forty". I can be reached at: ma...@iuvax.cs.indiana.edu or
Marek Lugowski
2871 Orland Avenue
Cincinnati, Ohio 45211
or
Enjoy, and let me know what you think. I would like to see these in print
one day, if the Polish connection so desires. I have to check on that.
Beware of typos...and please report them to me.
-- Marek
--------=---------------=--------
Halina Poswiatowska's (Marek #40).
English draft translation:
"Indeed here"
(p. 100 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
in my mouth i hold a strand of sun
and as with a strand of hair
i bite on it
sometimes a bee flies up to me
dressed in a short fur
i talk with it
the stars coated with the wax of prayers dim
the wind does not sift through my hair
the sun does not touch my lips
only the bee
brings me the news of light
it says: elements of red and gold
perfectly combined
ripen
under the gentle wing of autumn
i move a branch
slowly
turning deep brown
leaves fall
elements of red and gold
scattered all
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
29 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
"Wlasnie tutaj"
(p. 100 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
trzymam w ustach pasmo slonca
jak pasmo wlosow
gryze
czasem przyfruwa pszczola
ubrana w krotkie futro
rozmawiam z nia
gwiazdy pociagniete woskiem modlitw gasna
wiatr nie przegarnia wlosow
slonce nie dotyka ust
tylko pszczola
przynosi wiesci o swietle
mowi: elementy czerwieni i zlota
zwiazane doskonale
dojrzewaja
pod lagodnym skrzydlem jesieni
potracam galaz
wolno
brunatniejac
opadaja liscie
elementy czerwieni i zlota
rozsypane
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Yo, dudes, all alledged 20k of you...
#5 of the r.a.p. translations of Halina Poswiatowska is the title poem
of _Oda do rak_ (Ode to hands), published in 1966, in Polish.
English translation:
Ode to hands (p. 118 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Please be welcome, my hands, my fingers so capable of grasping,
of which one was once crushed by a car door, x-rayed -- the
hand on the film looked like a dislocated wing -- a smallish
chip of bone circumscribed by its own independent contour. The ring
finger of the left hand once adorned with a ring is widowed now
and deprived of its adornment. He, who gave me the ring,
does not himself have fingers anymore, his hands have braided
together into one with the roots of a tree.
My hands so many times touching the cooling hands of the dead
and the warm strong living hands. So capable of caressing uncannily,
with the touch that blurs the space which divides being from nonbeing
and the heavens from the earth. The hands, not unfamiliar with
the pain of powerlessness, claw-locked with each other like two
accursed birds, homeless, looking firecely blindly and everywhere
for the trail of your hands.
draft translation of Halina Poswiatowska's
"Oda do Rak", 1960's, from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
29 October 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
Oda do rak (p. 118 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Badzcie pozdrowione moje dlonie, palce moje chwytne,
z ktorych jeden przytrzasniety drzwiami samochodu, foto-
grafowany promieniami Roentgena -- dlon na zdjeciu
wygladala jak zwichniete skrzydlo -- niewielki okruch
kosci obrysowany wlasnym odrebnym konturem. Serdeczny
palec lewej reki ozdobiony raz pierscionkiem owdowialy
jest teraz i pozbawiony swej ozdoby. Ten, ktory mi dal
pierscionek, juz dawno nie ma palcow, jego rece splotly
sie w jedno z korzeniami drzewa.
Rece moje tyle razy dotykajace stygnacych dloni umarlych
i cieplych mocnych zywych dloni. Umiejace piescic niezwy-
kle, w dotyku zatracajace przestrzen dzielaca istnienie
od nieistnienia i niebo od ziemi. Rece, ktorym nieobcy
bol bezsilnosci, wczepione w siebie jak dwa przeklete ptaki,
bezdomne, szukajace na oslep i wszedzie sladu twoich rak.
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Here is (Marek #21) or (p. 139) in _Wiersze wybrane_.
This untitled piece corresponds to (Carl #3), which is
included for comparison. The two translations differ markedly!
This brings to a completion my translating the 4 poems that
Carl typed in from Holton et al eds. Have fun re-translating.
My English draft translation:
untitled ("my main occcupation is doing my brows")
(p. 139 in _Wiersze wybrane_), (Marek #21)
------------------------------------------------------
my main occupation is doing my brows
i do my eyebrows with the concentration
of women who are already running scared
puncturing the mirror surfaces with a careful gaze
the house corner that I pass on my way each morning
the turn of the street I walk down on
the sickly fingers of mildew grasp there at grains of sand
the holes in the wall grow as do the holes in the floor
crumbling to dust the streets are falling apart
the wind carries them every which way
the wind plays hide and seek with them
pulling my hair over my cheeks
i look at the stones overgrow with weeds.
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960's
translated by
Marek Lugowski
3 November 1990
Cincinnati
-------
Here is the same poem translated by someone else
(Carl #3) as posted by Carl:
Source:
The New Polish Poetry, A Bilingual Collection
Holton and Vangelisti eds.
Pittsburgh: Pittsburgh UP, 1978,
(c) 1978 Milne Holton and Paul Vangelisti.
[untitled]
------------------------------------------------------
my principal occupation is painting eyebrows
I concentrate on painting eyebrows
like frightened women
piercing the surfaces of mirrors with careful eyes
in the corner of the tenement I pass each morning
in the bend of the street I cross
frail fingers of mildew embrace the sand
in walls and floor the cracks grow bigger
streets split and crumble
blowing to the four corners of the earth
the wind plays hide-and-seek with them
shaking my hair across my face
I see how stones cover themselves with grass
1966
Translation by Sylvester Domanski
-----
Here is the Polish original:
(p. 139) in _Wiersze wybrane_ &
(p. 80) in Holton et al.
----------------------------------------------------------
moim glownym zajeciem jest malowanie brwi
maluje brwi ze skupieniem
tak to czynia kobiety juz przelekle
nakluwajace luster powierzchnie uwaznym spojrzeniem
naroznik kamienicy ktora mijam kazdego rana
zakret ulicy ktora przechodze
watle palce plesni obejmuja ziarna piasku
rosna szpary w scianach ogromnieja szpary w podlodze
krusza sie rozsypujace ulice
wiatr je w cztery strony niesie
wiatr sie z nimi w chowanego bawi
nagarniajac wlosy na policzki
patrze jak kamienie porastaja w trawy
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960's
Halina Poswiatowska's (Marek #36), or (p. 144) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
untitled ("as yesterday I wrote poems...")
(p. 144 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
as yesterday I wrote poems
so today I give away kisses
my kisses have got less expensive
my poems have become rarer
i write poems now only
when i am pierced by a flower's hue
or when a bat
in a night fly-by
touches my cheek
i kiss in every season
i kiss casual acquaintances
students medical doctors poets
they in turn write poems about it
like i give away my kisses
in fistfuls
without thinking
in haste
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
14 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
untitled ("wczoraj pisalam wiersze...")
(p. 144 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
wczoraj pisalam wiersze
tak jak dzis rozdaje pocalunki
moje pocalunki potanialy
wiersze sa coraz rzadsze
wiersze pisze juz tylko wtedy
kiedy zrani mnie kolor kwiatu
albo kiedy nietoperz
w nocnym przelocie
dotknie mojego policzka
caluje o kazdej porze roku
caluje przygodnie spotkanych
studentow lekarzy poetow
oni potem pisza o tym wiersze
tak jak ja rozdaje pocalunki
garsciami
bezmyslnie
pospiesznie
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Halina Poswiatowska's (Marek #37), or (p. 163) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
untitled ("o leaf...")
(p. 163 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
----------------------------------------------------------
o leaf
shelter me with green
i am the autumn's naked tree
i am shivering
o water
let me drink
i am the desert sand
of hot and arrid land
wind sifts through me with its hand
warm me
o you who are the sun
before whom i stand
hidden in words like in trees' shadows
a pulsating springs
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
27 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
untitled ("lisciu...")
(p. 163 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
---------------------------------------------------------
lisciu
oslon mnie zielenia
jestem jesienne nagie drzewo
z zimna drze
wodo
napoj mnie
jestem piaskiem
goracej suchej pustyni
wiatr mnie przegarnia reka
ogrzej mnie
ty ktory jestes sloncem
przed ktorym stoje
ukryta w slowach jak w drzew cieniu
zrodlo bijace
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
No. 11 on r.a.p., also from _Oda do rak_ (Ode to hands), 1966.
English draft translation:
untitled ("whenever i want to live i shout...")
(p. 166 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
------------------------------------------------------------
whenever i want to live i shout
when life leaves me
i cling to it
i say -- hey, life
don't go away yet
his warm hand in my hand
my mouth near his ear
i whisper
hey, life
-- as if life was a lover
who wants to leave --
i hang from his neck
i shout
i will die if you go away
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
30 October 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
("zawsze kiedy chce zyc krzycze...")
(p. 166 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-------------------------------------------------------------
zawsze kiedy chce zyc krzycze
gdy zycie odchodzi ode mnie
przywieram do niego
mowie -- zycie
nie odchodz jeszcze
jego ciepla reka w mojej rece
moje usta przy jego uchu
szepcze
zycie
-- jak gdyby zycie bylo kochankiem
ktory chce odejsc --
wieszam mu sie na szyi
krzycze
umre jesli odejdziesz
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Number 14 on r.a.p. and (p. 17) in _Wiersze wybrane_.
It was published in her first volume, _Hymn balwochwalczy_
(_The idolatry anthem_). Jan Zych, the editor of _Wiersze
wybrane_ includes it as the first poem, (p. 17). It has a title,
"Nad Heloiza" ("Over Heloise"), and it so happens that
the second poem in the collection, (p. 18) / (Marek #15),
shares the title. The index lists both.
Um, I just read in the Britannica about Heloise and Abelard. My folks
could not believe I did not know about this historical couple from the
11th century... They forgot I went to a public high school in
Chicago, I guess. Anyone willing to key in some info on Heloise and
Abelard, or write more poems about them? Modern, postmodern or
archaic (smile)!
English draft translation:
"Over Heloise" (first of two of the same title)
(p. 17 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Heloise was not a sinner
Heloise did not have a veil
Heloise did not sleep in a river
she carried her golden nakedness around
on dusty streets
giant pine trees -- dead before her
sang: -- hosanna hosanna
Heloise -- a green stem
Heloise -- a bud of a flower
Heloise -- a darkly beauty of a cherry
knealing under the weight of its crop
hosanna -- they called - hosanna
then they took the white Heloise
dressed her in a white veil
and in a sad river they drowned her
Heloise's golden oblong body
-- hosanna --
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
1 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
"Nad Heloiza" (1st of 2)
(p. 17 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Heloiza nie byla grzeszna
Heloiza nie miala welonu
Heloiza nie spala w rzece
obnosila swoja zlota nagosc
po zakurzonych ulicach
wielkie sosny -- umarle przed nia
spiewaly: -- hosanna hosanna
Heloiza -- zielona lodyga
Heloiza -- zalazek kwiatu
Heloiza -- smagla czeresnia
przyklekla pod ciezarem plonu
hosanna -- krzyczeli -- hosanna
potem wzieli Heloize biala
ubrali w bialy welon
i w smutnej utopili rzece
Heloizy zlote oble cialo
-- hosanna --
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
No. 9 on r.a.p., from _Oda do rak_ (Ode to hands), 1966.
English draft translation:
untitled ("My God have mercy on me...")
(p. 170 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
My God have mercy on me
why have You made me into the unlikeness
of hard stones
I am full of your secrets
I change water into the wine of desire
wine -- I change into the flame of blood
God of my pain
with a satin breath make
the empty nest of my heart
lightly -- so as not to crumple the wings
breathe into me the soul of a bird
with a call become silver from tenderness
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
31 October 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
("Boze moj zmiluj sie nade mna...")
(p. 170 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
Boze moj zmiluj sie nade mna
czemu stworzyles mnie na niepodobienstwo
twardych kamieni
pelna jestem twoich tajemnic
wode zamieniam w wino pragnienia
wino -- zamieniam w plomien krwi
Boze mojego bolu
atlasowym oddechem wymosc
puste gniazdo mojego serca
lekko -- zeby nie pogniesc skrzydel
tchnij we mnie ptaka
o glosie srebrnym z tkliwosci
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Hi r.a.p.pers. Here is some work for y'all. Translation in progress
from Polish to English, verse, by Halina Poswiatowska.
The original appeared in 1966 in _Oda do rak_ [Ode to Hands]. Like
most of her work, it is untitled... It also rhymes, but I leave the
technical aspect of that to Wlod (Wlodzimierz Holsztynski)
wl...@netcom.uucp... Clearly I was unable to do that dimension much
justice (yet).
-- Marek
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland,
English translation Polish original
of Halina Poswiatowska's untitled p. 176 of 1989's
_Wiersze Wybrane_ (tutaj lezy Izold jasnowlosa)
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
here lies Isolde of hair so fair tutaj lezy Isold jasnowlosa
a white Isolde with a golden braid biala Isold o zlotym warkoczu
it is so light in the hospital at night bardzo jasno jest w szpitalu
--no break in English-- noca
the tiny flames of eyes are burning swieca ogniki oczu
the breath, all aflutter, beating trzepotliwy oddech o sciany
reflects off the walls like a caged bird would tlucze sie jak uwieziony ptak
the wind runs up to randevous na spotkanie wybiega mu wiatr
caught in the narrows of corridors w korytarze waskie zablakany
and I know that it will irrevocably happen i wiem ze sie nieodwolalnie
--no break in English-- stanie
before the new day awakens the windows nim obudzi okna nowy dzien
there, on the hospital bed a shadow of gold na szpitalnym lozku zlota cien
and a whisper of wind at the window -- Tristan i szept wiatru poza oknem --
Tristanie
poem by Halina Poswiatowska (soft s), born 1935,
taken from _Wiersze Wybrane_ (Exerpted Poems),
a Polish-language anthology of hers
published by Wydawnictwo Literackie in Krakow in 1989,
editor: Jan Zych.
My English translation from the original Polish
is a mere draft and I don't like it much.
Please rip it to shreds and lets improve on it.
Marek Lugowski
24 October 1990
Cincinnati
#15, the second "Over Heloise", or (p. 18) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
"Over Heloise" (2nd of two same titles)
(p. 18 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
she asked the day -- why
it got up silver and combed the clouds
she took the tall pines into her confidence
in silence she ran up the hills
sun -- she shouted -- sun
please go out just like my love did
don't shine sun
she covered her eyes with hands
through the dead branches the wind
hunched over her
touched a lock of hair
she quivered
and with a hand she pushed the wind away
the sun went out
caught in the net of the moon
she thrashed with four gills
a tiny sunfish
dragged on the strand
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
1 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
"Nad Heloiza" (2nd of 2)
(p. 18 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
------------------------------------------------------------
pytala dnia -- dlaczego
srebrny wstal i uczesal obloki
zwierzala sie sosnom wysokim
na pagorki wbiegala milkla
sloce
zgasnij jak moja milosc
nie swiec slonce
oczy rekoma kryla
poprzez suche galezie wiatr
pochylony nad nia
dotkna pasma wlosow
zadrzala
i reka odtracila wiatr
zgaslo slonce
zlowiona w siec ksiezyca
trzepotala poczworna skrzela
drobna plotka
wyciagnieta na piach
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
No. 10 on r.a.p., last poem from _Oda do rak_ (Ode to hands), 1966.
English draft translation:
untitled ("ever since the birds flew away from my words...")
(p. 180 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
------------------------------------------------------------
ever since the birds flew away from my words
and the stars went out
i don't know what to call
fear and death and love
i look at my hands
helpless
entwined one into the other
and my lips are silent
nameless
the heavens grow over me
and ever nearer
without a name
the earth blooms
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
31 October 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
("odkad ptaki odfrunely z moich slow...")
(p. 180 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
odkad ptaki odfrunely z moich slow
i gwiazdy zgasly
nie wiem jak nazwac
strach i smierc i milosc
przygladam sie dloniom
bezradne
oplataja jedna druga
i moje usta milcza
bezimmienne
wyrasta nade mna niebo
i coraz blizsza
bez imienia
ziemia rozkwita
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Halina Poswiatowska's (Marek #26), or (p. 19) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
This is by far the most difficult one I have tackled yet. I am not
even sure I properly understood the Polish in places, or produced a
coherent version in English! YOU tell me.... better yet, translate
your own from mine...
-- Marek
English draft translation:
"Dancing Nina"
(p. 19 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
----------------------------------------------------------
why did Nina die
in the attic amongst wet sheets
she wrapped her neck
with a laundry rope
she was still gazing out the little window
when death came
violet -- golden
golden -- violet like solitude
Nina died
she is dead
a bat sat down on her hair
and peeks into her empty eys -- it is thinking
a human -- it is thinking
this is Nina dead
and hanging on the laundry rope
when she nudges silks with her hip
men of clouded muscles
look at her and clench their fists
with faces like the negative of the sun
which will burst out with light
agleam
she has climbed onto high heels
in the air on her toes
she walks and hold in her hands
a song a breeze
on her toes
she dances
breasts
each alone
deeper
a carved-in triangle of heart
the serpentine roads of blood
it ebbs
it flows
it wrenches the neck
hips
swaying sleepy
hips
rising forever
and forever
falling asleep
in the same movement
as the stomach
a story about the stomach
a story raised high made dark
a voice
a voice which entices
a voice which rejects
a voice which tenses the muscles
and tells of husky dark sleek body
of sudden angles curves
a voice strangled by a million kisses
a sobbing animal
voice
lips swallen
dress bulging
hands clenched
mouth open -- hands
and the feet the feet -- exactly
like a suffocating narrow dream
Nina dances on the rope
on an ordinary rope
Nina is dead and why
does she have such a beautiful neck
such legs like the words in the chorus of
je t'aime
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
9 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
"Tanczaca Nina"
(p. 19 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
dlaczego umarla Nina
na strychu posrod mokrych przescieradel
okrecila szyje
sznurkiem od bielizny
jeszcze patrzyla przez niewielkie okno
gdy przyszla smierc
fioletowa -- zlota
zlota -- fioletowa jak samotnosc
umarla Nina
nie zyje
nietoperz przysiadl na wlosach
w puste oczy zaglada -- mysli
czlowiek -- mysli
a to Nina umarla
na sznurku od bielizny zawisla
kiedy biodrem jedwab potraca
patrza na nia i sciskaja piesci
mezczyzni o chmurnych miesniach
o twarzach jek negatyw slonca
ktore swiatlem rozblysnie
zalsni
na wysokich obcasach wspieta
w powietrzu na palcach
idzie i trzyma w rekach
jakis spiew jakis wiatr
na palcach wspieta
tanczy
piersi
kazda osobno
glebiej
wyciety trojkat serca
krete drogi krwi
odplywa
przyplywa
wygina szyje
biodra
rozkolysane senne
biodra
wstajace wiecznie
i wiecznie
zasypiajace
w tym samym ruchu
brzuch
opowiesc o brzuchu
uniesiona ciemna
glos
glos ktory wabi
glos ktory odpycha
glos ktory miesnie napreza
opowiada o smaglej powierzchni ciala
o naglych przegieciach skretach
zdlawiony millionem pocalunkow
lkajacy zwierzecy
glos
usta wypukle
sukienka wzdeta
rece zacisniete
usta otwarte -- rece
i stopy stopy -- wlasnie
jak duszny waski sen
tanczy Nina na sznurku
na zwyklym
nie zyje Nina i czemu
taka piekna ma szyje
takie nogi jak slowa refrenu
je t'aime
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Halina Poswiatowska's "Marigolds or the biological cycle"
(Marek #24), or (p. 206) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
Marigolds or the biological cycle
(p. 206 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
they were scarcely eighteen years old
the nurse brought them in the morning
still blind
dressed in fog
at noon
they were already thirty
they openned their golden eyes widely
their unfurled leaves
barely fit in the vase
the evening came
and i took them out to trash
tiny shriveled
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
3 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
Margerytki albo cykl biologiczny
(p. 206 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
nie mialy wiecej niz osiemnascie lat
siostra przyniosla je rano
jeszcze slepe
mgla ubrane
w poludnie
mialy juz lat trzydziesci
szeroko otwieraly zlote oczy
rozpostarte liscie
z trudem miescily sie w wazonie
przyszedl wieczor
i wynioslam je do kubla na smieci
malutkie pomarszczone
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Halina Poswiatowska's (Marek #25), or (p. 207) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
untitled ("I'm listening to the rustle of grasses...")
(p. 207 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm listening to the rustle of grasses -- on which a cat walks
so softly, as if it suspected concealed prey in each and every
stalk. The cat is a hunter -- he has poised himself behind
a small tuft -- he sharpens his claws. His eyes look out with
hooklike halfmoons, his fur is made right out of your touch,
and whiskers right out of the cool glint of teeth. He jumped
and my heart died, as when the rhythm of the train's wheels
cut apart our living bodies.
A wing flapped -- but the squeel of death was merely an echo
of that other pain -- which is why I calmly turned the page
and read on. The grasses rustled.
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
3 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
untitled ("Slucham szelestu traw...")
(p. 207 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Slucham szelestu traw -- po ktorych stapa kot tak cicho,
jakby w kazdej lodyzce domyslal sie ukrytej zdobyczy. Kot
jest mysliwym -- przywarl za kepka waska -- ostrzy pa-
znokcie. Jego oczy patrza haczykowatym polksiezycem, fu-
tro ma z dotyku twoich rak, a wasy z chlodnego polysku
zebow. Skoczyl i moje serce umarlo, jak w chwili gdy stu-
kot kol rozcial nasze zywe ciala.
Zatrzepotalo skrzydlo -- ale pisk smierci by echem tam-
tego bolu -- dlatego spokojnie odwrocilam karte i czyta-
lam dalej. Trawy szelescily.
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
4th poem by Halina Poswiatowska translated on r.a.p. C'mon, this one's short.
A draft translation of p. 223 in _Wiersze wybrane_ (Exerpted poems), 1989:
A certain aspect of civilization
---------------------------------------------------------------------
from the stone age
straight into the ill-boding dust
they love stone
stone is like the body
warm and submissive to the hands
but here they are being brought matter
coin-changed into vibrations
in every vibration death
they love fire
the fire which digests the flesh
but here they are being brought a discreet
funeral rite
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960's,
translated from Polish by Marek Lugowski
Cincinnati, 28 Oct 90.
The tense in lines 6 and 11 was not preserved. Literally, Halina
Poswiatowska wrote "But here they-2 are bringing to them-1 ...":
(a [but, and, lo] tu [here] im [them-1] niosa [they-2 are bringing,
they-2 bring] ...
).
This poem appeared for the first time in _Jescze jedno wspomnienie_
(One more rememberance), posthumously, in 1968.
Polish original, copyright (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow:
Pewien aspect cywilizacji
--------------------------------------------------------------------
z epoki kamiennej
prosto w pyl zlowrozebny
oni kochaja kamien
kamien jest jak cialo
cieply rekom ulegly
a tu im niosa materie
rozmieniona na drgania
w kazdym drgnieniu smierc
oni kochaja ogien
ogien ktory trawi cialo
a tu im niosa dyskretny
pogrzebowy obrzadek
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960's.
No. 8, shortest yet.
English draft translation:
untitled (p. 226 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
an angel is my neighbor
he guards human dreams
that's why he gets home late
i hear the quiet steps on the stairs
and the rustle
of the folded wings
in the morning he stands in my door
wide open
and says:
your window again
shone long
into the night
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
30 October 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
("moim sasiadem jest aniol...")
(p. 226 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
moim sasiadem jest aniol
on strzeze ludzkich snow
dlatego wraca pozno do domu
na schodach slysze dyskretne kroki
i szelest
zwijanych skrzydel
on rano staje w moich drzwiach
otwartych na osciez
i mowi:
twoje okno znowu
swiecilo dlugo
w noc
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Try your own translation... English to English.
-- Marek
Halina Poswiatowska's "Veritas"
(Marek #23), or (p. 240) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
Veritas
(p. 240 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
if I extend my hand
wishing to touch
I will encounter a copper wire
bearing flowing electricity
i will rain in flakes
ashenly
falling down
physics is true
the bible is true
love is true
and true is pain
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
3 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
Veritas
(p. 240 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
jesli wyciagne rece
i zechce dotknac
natrafie na miedziany drut
przez ktory plynie eletryczny prad
posypie sie
popiolem
w dol
fizyka jest prawdziwa
biblia jest prawdziwa
milosc jest prawdziwa
i prawdziwy jest bol
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.
Here is a 3rd Halina Poswiatowska Poem. It's also in the paragraph
form, three paragraphs actually. To repeat, H.P. was born in 1935 and
died in 1967, 32, in the middle of a full-blown, first-rate tenure as
a poet; she died writing prolifically; she died loving life. This
poem appeared after her death in _Jeszcze jedno wspomnienie_ (One more
remembrance), in 1968, and was reprinted in the book of which I have the
latest edition, _Wiersze wybrane_ (Exerpted poems), 1975 (1989).
From what I have read of her stuff, she is definitely up there with
Sylvia Plath and Anne Sexton, with a very special voice all her own,
very Polish, although she was quite cosmopolitan and spent time in the
U.S. You may wish to keep in mind that she spent most of her life in
hospitals, and that her first of the two heart surgeries was in the
U.S. in 1958. It extended her life by some 9 years. She died a widow
after 2 years of marriage to Adolf Poswiatowski, also a heart patient,
and she died in Warsaw after the second heart operation. As Jan Zych,
the editor of _Wiersze wybrane_ writes, "Distrusting, but full of hope
and greedy for the treasures that books bestow, with uncanny fortitude
she took to studying at Smith right after the first heart operation.
Just then she wrote to friends: 'for the first time I am beginning to
think of myself in terms of a future'. She studied philosophy and
logic, English and German; she wrote poems, and she translated from
English and French to Polish (Joseph Margolis, Lawrence Ferlinghetti,
Ezra Pound, Paul Eluard, Jacques Prevert), and she got started on
learning Spanish, especially appreciating Lorca's writing (_Obras
completas_) with which she would never part."
Ok, now you know more about Halina Poswiatowska, thanks to the book
Joanna Trzeciak sent me from Poland this summer.
Here is the 3rd poem, untitled from p. 245 of 1989's _Wiersze wybrane_.
Draft translation by Marek Lugowski.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Do live -- you said -- you are a sun's ray caught as the hue of a flower.
You are the soft touch of a bee's wings you are the narrow blade of grass
the buzz of a beetle -- you said -- live.
The hue of a flower goes out and turns into a fruit less beautiful but
needed by your fingers which lightly touch the warm, heated skin. The
hue of a flower dies... The bee's wings allied with the wind bring into
the fourcornered shadow of a hive honey with which you feed your mouth.
The blade of grass with its tart aftertaste sticks to your lips. You
make excuses for everything and the shadow and the bird because you need
everything. Why do you say: live like a bird like a bee like a leaf when
it is all you and you. Say it like so -- live for me live so that I could
kiss your fingers smelling of camomile and your neck so like a flower. And
eyebrows like leaves. And mouth.
Then I will brush my hair with a yellow comb I will rest it on a pillow I
will calm my hands. And I will live! For you.
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, translated by Marek Lugowski.
in Cincinnati, 27 Oct 90.
(c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie
original in Polish: (p. 245 / _Wiersze wybrane_)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zyj -- mowiles -- jestes promieniem slonca schwytanym
w barwe kwiatu. Jestes miekkim dotykiem skrzydel pszczoly
jestes waskim zdzblem trawy brzekiem chrabaszcza -- mo-
wiles -- zyj.
Barwa kwiatu gasnie i przeradza sie w owoc mniej piekny
ale potrzebny twoim palcom ktore lekko dotykaja cieplej
nagrzanej skory. Barwa kwiatu umiera... Skrzydla pszczoly
sprzymierzone z wiatrem przynosza w czworokatny cien
ula miod ktorym karmisz usta. Zdzblo trawy cierpkim po-
smakiem przywiera do twoich warg. Usprawiedliwiasz wszy-
stko i cien i ptaka bo wszystko potrzebne tobie. Po co mo-
wisz: zyj jak ptak jak pszczola jak lisc gdy to wszystko jest
toba i toba. Tak powiedz -- zyj dla mnie zyj abym mogl
calowac twoje palce pachnace rumiankiem i szyje podobna
do kwiatu. I brwi jak liscie. I usta.
Wtedy wlosy rozczesze zoltym grzebieniem poloze na po-
duszce rece uspokoje. I bede zyla! Dla ciebie.
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960's.
Do try your own translation.
-- MarekHalina Poswiatowska's (Marek #16), or (p. 262) of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989.
English draft translation:
untitled ("why did i wash my breasts)
(p. 262 of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
-----------------------------------------------------------
why did I wash my breasts
why did I comb each hair separately
in my narrow mirror
empty are my hands
and bed
the slim pocket knife of the night
cut open my wedding band
it now hangs down as the crescent moon
under an apple tree pregnant with buds
i struggle i tear at things
and my starched shirt
catches the giant breeze
my stomach is a quiet pond
my breasts -- whitewater
caress them to stillness -- caress -- caress
the light of the day drunken with helplessness
will find my parched lips
and unwillingly and strangely
fogilly it will kiss them -- and leave
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s,
translated from Polish by
Marek Lugowski
2 November 1990
Cincinnati
Polish original (c) 1975 Wydawnictwo Literackie, Krakow, Poland:
untitled ("po co umylam piersi")
(p. 262of _Wiersze wybrane_, 1989)
----------------------------------------------------------
po co umylam piersi
i kazdy wlos z osobna
czesalam w waskim lustrze
puste sa moje rece
i lozko
cienki scyzoryk nocy
rozcial obraczke
polksiezycem zwisla
pod brzemienna w paki jablonia
szamoce sie szarpie
krochmalona koszule
wydyma wielki wiatr
moj brzuch jest gladkim stawem
piersi -- rozpieniona woda [1st case, grammar]
uglaskac je -- uglaskac -- uglaskac
swiatlo dnia pijane z niemocy
znajdzie moje zaschle usta
i niechetnie i obco
mglisto je ucaluje -- odejdzie
Halina Poswiatowska, Polish, 1960s.