Authors: Tadeusz Rozewicz
new poems (5 page)
Â
Â
Master Jakob Böhme
(not my master)
(not my master)
Â
so then
a Silesian shoemaker
by the name of Jakob Böhme
“philosophus teutonicus”
as he was called
a Silesian shoemaker
by the name of Jakob Böhme
“philosophus teutonicus”
as he was called
Â
who lived by the bridge
in Görlitz
in Görlitz
Â
told me how
he saw the gleam of the divine light
in a tin pitcher
or maybe a beer mug
he saw the gleam of the divine light
in a tin pitcher
or maybe a beer mug
Â
I walked from Zgorzelec to Görlitz
to buy shoes or maybe brandy
armies of ants were marching
over the bridge carrying
Garden Gnomes Gartenzwerge
wicker baskets strong liquor
to buy shoes or maybe brandy
armies of ants were marching
over the bridge carrying
Garden Gnomes Gartenzwerge
wicker baskets strong liquor
Â
I've forgotten the details
of the story told by that modest man
and capable artisan
who saw in his kitchen
in some container
the gleam of the absolute
of the story told by that modest man
and capable artisan
who saw in his kitchen
in some container
the gleam of the absolute
Â
see you descendants in what
modest form God appeared
to the shoemaker of Zgorzelec
modest form God appeared
to the shoemaker of Zgorzelec
Â
(though he was a good shoemaker)
conversation with Herr Scardanelli(an apocryphal story)
Â
Â
“sehen Sie gnädiger Herr kein Komma”
Â
sehen Sie gnädiger Herr Scardanelli
kein Komma kein Punkt
Doppelpunkt Strichpunkt Gedanken-Strich
and just between ourselves
you were no ordinary madman
you were sometimes the mad Eure Excellenz
sometimes you pretended to be Greek
Leb wohl, Hyperion . . .
Gute Nacht, Diotima . . .
kein Komma kein Punkt
Doppelpunkt Strichpunkt Gedanken-Strich
and just between ourselves
you were no ordinary madman
you were sometimes the mad Eure Excellenz
sometimes you pretended to be Greek
Leb wohl, Hyperion . . .
Gute Nacht, Diotima . . .
Â
Diotima you dreamed up
from a white glacier
she did not sweat did not eat
lacked that which every maid
and every woman possesses
hadn't a drop of blood in her body
she was a copy of a Greek sculpture
her colors had faded
she was a death mask
poor
poor Scardanelli
the Nazis exploited you
but in
Mein Kampf
there's not a word about you
Hitler adored Wagner
was himself a character from Kotzebue
from a white glacier
she did not sweat did not eat
lacked that which every maid
and every woman possesses
hadn't a drop of blood in her body
she was a copy of a Greek sculpture
her colors had faded
she was a death mask
poor
poor Scardanelli
the Nazis exploited you
but in
Mein Kampf
there's not a word about you
Hitler adored Wagner
was himself a character from Kotzebue
Â
Pity you never read
Heidegger's comments
on your poetry
they're brilliant
the professor was a scribbler
wrote indifferent poems
to his Jewish lover
the “lump in pumps”
âas Thomas Bernhard called himâ
wanted to be führer to the Führer
Heidegger's comments
on your poetry
they're brilliant
the professor was a scribbler
wrote indifferent poems
to his Jewish lover
the “lump in pumps”
âas Thomas Bernhard called himâ
wanted to be führer to the Führer
Â
I last saw you in Valhalla
near Regensburg
though I didn't see Heine there
near Regensburg
though I didn't see Heine there
Â
you were a thoroughly German
genius and that was why you went mad
later you played the madman
and wrote extraordinary poems from the Tower
Eure Heiligkeit
when you were asked about Goethe
you shrugged
when you were asked about poetry
you shrugged
or you said: “Sehen Sie gnädiger Herr
kein Komma”
genius and that was why you went mad
later you played the madman
and wrote extraordinary poems from the Tower
Eure Heiligkeit
when you were asked about Goethe
you shrugged
when you were asked about poetry
you shrugged
or you said: “Sehen Sie gnädiger Herr
kein Komma”
Â
[2002]
the poet's other mysterythe poet is 90
and he is 9
and 900
and he is 9
and 900
Â
or he is 80
is 8
and is 800
is 8
and is 800
Â
make room for youth
I say to myself
I see
a cat
lying by the fence
its sharp teeth bared
to the sky
little flowers by the stream gazing
with their eyes agleam
I say to myself
I see
a cat
lying by the fence
its sharp teeth bared
to the sky
little flowers by the stream gazing
with their eyes agleam
Â
the fragrant acacia
Â
I mean I'm not going to start
waking people at night to tell them
that I had good intentions
waking people at night to tell them
that I had good intentions
Â
and I oughtn't to wake my wife
to tell her
I'm afraid of death
it's time to die
but I somehow don't want to
there's one more poem by LeÅmian
one more painting by Nowosielski
a sip of red wine
another encounter with Hamlet
I first met him
sixty years ago
he's not changed a bit
I on the other hand
to tell her
I'm afraid of death
it's time to die
but I somehow don't want to
there's one more poem by LeÅmian
one more painting by Nowosielski
a sip of red wine
another encounter with Hamlet
I first met him
sixty years ago
he's not changed a bit
I on the other hand
Â
midnight
I read Chekhov smile at him
what a kind good man
he must have loved people . . .
“ich sterbe” he said and passed away
I read Chekhov smile at him
what a kind good man
he must have loved people . . .
“ich sterbe” he said and passed away
Â
here I have a letter to
Bujnowski
I'll never finish it
because his wife wrote to say
Józek had died
“it's so hard to bid farewell to life” he said
before dying . . .
Bujnowski
I'll never finish it
because his wife wrote to say
Józek had died
“it's so hard to bid farewell to life” he said
before dying . . .
Â
“Adamaszek” leaves his house
smiles at me
his wife buttons his coat
from his eyes I can tell
he's no idea who I am
though we've known each other fifty years
I can see he doesn't see me
yesterday Mietek called
“Adamaszek died you know”
smiles at me
his wife buttons his coat
from his eyes I can tell
he's no idea who I am
though we've known each other fifty years
I can see he doesn't see me
yesterday Mietek called
“Adamaszek died you know”
Â
this morning
I met a mongrel
that I know
sometimes I talk to it
it used to bark at me
it lies in the sun ignoring people
its little muzzle
completely gray
I met a mongrel
that I know
sometimes I talk to it
it used to bark at me
it lies in the sun ignoring people
its little muzzle
completely gray
Â
where are you doggy
I know I know you have your own affairs
by the post by the tree
round the corner
The Mystery of the Poetry ReadingI know I know you have your own affairs
by the post by the tree
round the corner
From Aristotle
Omne animal post coitum
triste est
praeter gallum, qui post coitum
cantat
Omne animal post coitum
triste est
praeter gallum, qui post coitum
cantat
Â
at the reading
the poet
rises
and falls with the audience
levitates
drinks water
takes wing
the poet
rises
and falls with the audience
levitates
drinks water
takes wing
Â
after the reading
by candlelight
or without candles
he takes questions
signs books
writes in journals
receives flowers
kisses a beautiful young lady
on the cheek
by candlelight
or without candles
he takes questions
signs books
writes in journals
receives flowers
kisses a beautiful young lady
on the cheek
Â
flowers ribbons
tied in hair
murmur of voices
the candles are put out
silence
tied in hair
murmur of voices
the candles are put out
silence
Â
give me your shadow
and your supple neck
no
I don't want shadow
and your supple neck
no
I don't want shadow
Â
alone in the hotel room
Â
nur narr
nur dichter
nur dichter
Â
throat dry
heart pounding
heart pounding
Â
beneath the candelabras of chestnuts
male and female students
laughing shouting kissing
drinking beer from bottles
standing still
in the moonlight
male and female students
laughing shouting kissing
drinking beer from bottles
standing still
in the moonlight
Â
he hears footsteps
in the hallway
a woman is coming
he hears
another door
closing
the tap of heels
now everything starts again
from the beginning
in a dream
the door opens
he sees
a dress falling
from shoulders
breasts
knees
he wakes
turns on the light
opens
Faust
in the hallway
a woman is coming
he hears
another door
closing
the tap of heels
now everything starts again
from the beginning
in a dream
the door opens
he sees
a dress falling
from shoulders
breasts
knees
he wakes
turns on the light
opens
Faust
Â
I was a man. Then, one dark day I hurled
Blasphemies to myself and to the world.
Today are voices everywhere, such a din
That I no longer know where I can run.
Blasphemies to myself and to the world.
Today are voices everywhere, such a din
That I no longer know where I can run.
Â
Heart in my mouth, I stand alone in fear.
The door creaks loud, but no one enters here.
The door creaks loud, but no one enters here.
Â
after a reading
the poet is sad
the poet is sad
Â
[2001]
Too BadI never finished reading
the “Paradiso” mea culpa
I got bored in the “Purgatorio”
mea culpa
the “Inferno” alone I read
with flushed face
mea maxima culpa
the “Paradiso” mea culpa
I got bored in the “Purgatorio”
mea culpa
the “Inferno” alone I read
with flushed face
mea maxima culpa
Â
Ezra Pound read not only all of
Dante and Confucius
but also the poet from Predappio
(la Clara a Milano!)
whom he adored
Dante and Confucius
but also the poet from Predappio
(la Clara a Milano!)
whom he adored
Â
Pound was a madman a genius
and a martyr
His favorite student
Possum
wrote beautiful poems about cats
wore tasteful neckties
and was more temperate in speech
than his master
for which he received the Nobel Prize
and a martyr
His favorite student
Possum
wrote beautiful poems about cats
wore tasteful neckties
and was more temperate in speech
than his master
for which he received the Nobel Prize
Â
Pound
was right
not to be fond
of capitalists and moneylenders
he sought to drive the merchants
from the temple
he was put
in a straightjacket
in this outfit
he roams Parnassus
conversing with the admirer
of Dante Ariosto Schiller
Klopstock Platen
and Weiblinger . . .
with the poet composer leader
translator and author of the poem
Die Worte vom Brot
with Benito Mussolini himself!
(serves you right! you foolish poet)
was right
not to be fond
of capitalists and moneylenders
he sought to drive the merchants
from the temple
he was put
in a straightjacket
in this outfit
he roams Parnassus
conversing with the admirer
of Dante Ariosto Schiller
Klopstock Platen
and Weiblinger . . .
with the poet composer leader
translator and author of the poem
Die Worte vom Brot
with Benito Mussolini himself!
(serves you right! you foolish poet)
Â
PS
too bad Pound never finished
Mein Kampf
before he started extolling
the Führer
Done Intoo bad Pound never finished
Mein Kampf
before he started extolling
the Führer
Done in
by a plank
on a trash heap Pier Paolo
tries to rise from the dead
crawls
by a plank
on a trash heap Pier Paolo
tries to rise from the dead
crawls
Â
enclosed in his hands he bears
bloody human
genitals like a chick
in the nest
up to the Lord's throne
bloody human
genitals like a chick
in the nest
up to the Lord's throne
Â
and this divine earth
with its unearthly beauty
this lesion in the universe
this canker in the loins
of the milky way
spits blood and sperm
with its unearthly beauty
this lesion in the universe
this canker in the loins
of the milky way
spits blood and sperm
Â
it was you Pier Paolo
who said
“Far off a person sees someone
who is killing another person.
He's a witness to the act,
he distances himself from it . . .”
someone
saw from far off
another person
who was killing you
La Terra vista dalla Luna
il porcile
a barely fledged youth
giovane di primo pelo
a kitchen boy with the burning eyes
of La Fornarina
clenching his buttocks
the rectum of paradise
who said
“Far off a person sees someone
who is killing another person.
He's a witness to the act,
he distances himself from it . . .”
someone
saw from far off
another person
who was killing you
La Terra vista dalla Luna
il porcile
a barely fledged youth
giovane di primo pelo
a kitchen boy with the burning eyes
of La Fornarina
clenching his buttocks
the rectum of paradise
Â
too young for the noose
for a death sentence an amorino
consuming the shit of the world
one of the heroes
of
Salo or 120 Days of Sodom
for a death sentence an amorino
consuming the shit of the world
one of the heroes
of
Salo or 120 Days of Sodom
Â
Created in the image
and likeness of God
Pier Paolo awaits
the day of judgment
The Philosopher's Secretand likeness of God
Pier Paolo awaits
the day of judgment
ich werde von Zeit zu Zeit
zum Tierâdass kann ich
an nichts denken als an
Essen, Trinken, Schlafen
Furchtbar!
zum Tierâdass kann ich
an nichts denken als an
Essen, Trinken, Schlafen
Furchtbar!
Â
this confession
came in the private diary
of the philosopher
came in the private diary
of the philosopher
Â
now interpreters publishers
slave traders relatives
have sold
the person
slave traders relatives
have sold
the person
Â
it's the revenge of his
famous assertion
(conjecture?)
Wovon man nicht sprechen kann
darüber muà man schweigen
famous assertion
(conjecture?)
Wovon man nicht sprechen kann
darüber muà man schweigen
Â
a saying as common and as hackneyed
as the Mona Lisa's smile
as the tongue Albert Einstein
poked out at the journalists
as the Mona Lisa's smile
as the tongue Albert Einstein
poked out at the journalists
Â
September 5 1914
I lie on strawâon the groundâ
I'm reading and writing
on a small wooden trunk
(preis 2,50 kronen)
wrote the philosopher
today once again I masââ
I lie on strawâon the groundâ
I'm reading and writing
on a small wooden trunk
(preis 2,50 kronen)
wrote the philosopher
today once again I masââ
Â
things are so toughâwrote the philosopher
Lord take pity on me
I'm a worm
but with God's help I'll become
a person
and he wrote
that he'd have to take his own life
Lord take pity on me
I'm a worm
but with God's help I'll become
a person
and he wrote
that he'd have to take his own life
Â
I'm going through hell
Â
Lord may the cup
pass me by
the mind is asleep in the head
wrote
the philosopher
then he wrote that he was afraid
pass me by
the mind is asleep in the head
wrote
the philosopher
then he wrote that he was afraid
Â
and now bad people
have sold the philosopher
and his great secret
that he masââ
like a boy or a recruit
like a million a hundred million boys
it's all half-scary half-funny
like the tiger in the circus
or the monkey masturbating
in the zoo
in plain sight
of its larger brothers
from the vanishing species
of
Homo sapiens
have sold the philosopher
and his great secret
that he masââ
like a boy or a recruit
like a million a hundred million boys
it's all half-scary half-funny
like the tiger in the circus
or the monkey masturbating
in the zoo
in plain sight
of its larger brothers
from the vanishing species
of
Homo sapiens
Â
Wittgenstein served as a volunteer
on a ship called the Goplana
it was still sailing
between Kraków and Sandomierz
after the second world war
when I was a student
or maybe I just dreamt it!
the Goplana with its great paddle wheel
on a ship called the Goplana
it was still sailing
between Kraków and Sandomierz
after the second world war
when I was a student
or maybe I just dreamt it!
the Goplana with its great paddle wheel
Â
Der Wachschiff Goplana
Â
In Krakau
Trakl vor wenigen Tagen
gestorben ist
additional uses for booksTrakl vor wenigen Tagen
gestorben ist
large books and small
can be variously utilized
can be variously utilized
Â
in the morning
upon waking
jump briskly out of bed
(don't waste the day!)
take a book
(if you have one at home)
and begin your exercises
upon waking
jump briskly out of bed
(don't waste the day!)
take a book
(if you have one at home)
and begin your exercises
Â
walk in a straight line
with the book
on your head
with the book
on your head
Â
you ask
“which book”
this isn't about books
it's about balance
“which book”
this isn't about books
it's about balance
Â
place one foot
in front of the other
do not move your hips
from side to side
in front of the other
do not move your hips
from side to side
Â
set the book
aside
“which book?”
it could be
Quo Vadis
With Fire and Sword
J. R. R. Tolkien
Der Herr der Ringe
(mit Anhängen)
Baudolino
An Ancient Legend
it makes no difference
it could be something shortlisted
aside
“which book?”
it could be
Quo Vadis
With Fire and Sword
J. R. R. Tolkien
Der Herr der Ringe
(mit Anhängen)
Baudolino
An Ancient Legend
it makes no difference
it could be something shortlisted
Â
walk straight
with eyes closed
stretch out your arms
to the sides
walk in a straight line
take a deep breath
with eyes closed
stretch out your arms
to the sides
walk in a straight line
take a deep breath
Â
[WrocÅaw 2002]
why do I write?sometimes “life” conceals
That
which is greater than life
That
which is greater than life
Â
Sometimes mountains conceal
That
which is beyond the mountains
so the mountains must be moved
but I lack the necessary
technical means
and the strength
and the faith
to move mountains
so you will not see it
ever
I know
and that is why
I write
March 21 2001âWorld Poetry DayThat
which is beyond the mountains
so the mountains must be moved
but I lack the necessary
technical means
and the strength
and the faith
to move mountains
so you will not see it
ever
I know
and that is why
I write
around noon the phone rang
“today is poetry day”
said Maria
“I can't hear you!”
“today is World Poetry Day, o poet!
it's been established by Unesco”
Even Ionesco couldn't have thought up
something like this! this is something (something)!
“today is poetry day”
said Maria
“I can't hear you!”
“today is World Poetry Day, o poet!
it's been established by Unesco”
Even Ionesco couldn't have thought up
something like this! this is something (something)!
Â
“Poet, I send you
best wishes on your own holiday”
said M. imperturbably
tomorrow is world rheumatism day
I replied and
sat for a moment to
put on my boots . . . damn laces
one end always longer than the other
tangled like the black spaghetti
advertised in Malbork
by charming grandma Zosia from Naples
best wishes on your own holiday”
said M. imperturbably
tomorrow is world rheumatism day
I replied and
sat for a moment to
put on my boots . . . damn laces
one end always longer than the other
tangled like the black spaghetti
advertised in Malbork
by charming grandma Zosia from Naples
Â
How did Leopold Staff put it?
Something must be tied,
something joined,
something resolved.
Something must be tied,
something joined,
something resolved.
Â
before I'd tied them
the phone rang
“good morning
pardon my boldness
but I'm an old lady
close to death could
I come round right now
and read you my poems?”
no!
I replied gruffly . . .
but I relented . . . (embarrassed)
“how old are you exactly?”
seventy
the phone rang
“good morning
pardon my boldness
but I'm an old lady
close to death could
I come round right now
and read you my poems?”
no!
I replied gruffly . . .
but I relented . . . (embarrassed)
“how old are you exactly?”
seventy
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