Bajka [English translation]
Bajka [English translation]
There was a land, that knew ages of grief,
the song written with scars they sang,
and land, fertile with mulch of bodies,
bred thoughts, like trees it sprouts.
Then a heavy wind blew through
and sow in the ground poisoned seed.
In steps of deceased great trees
only dwarfish stumps breed.
Call, if you want, an orchard - woods
of snipped saplings between tracks.
It won’t change the simplest of truths:
It is no more, my dear, this land.
There’s only wind, relentless wind,
that wakes up in the middle of night,
and, as if from underground, released
completely changed mankind.
There once was a land…
One, rising his hand up high,
shoots the blind Norwids,
but not to - God forbid! -
hit someone and incise.
Pickets of worker’s sagas
put on a black dress,
though for a state party
he arrives in a white mercedes!
Other hero of great moments
classics presses into service of the state
and worships the Wallenrodian style
with two grimaces on two faces.
The Purpurate bows as low as it can
before the uniform and before God
Albeit among faithful had hanged
once a bishop, who spoke with the foe.
There once was a land…
In the back lustful swarm
of commentators and authors,
who the last thought will turn to manure-
as long as in thousands of copies.
For this is how it has to be!
They're the ones who know what's up!
You have to protect the thin line!
Truth will be cherished - in memory stuck!
The unexpressed thought dies,
and memory dies with the bodies.
‘What you’ve seen - talk and write!’
‘I’ve seen naught, I forgot.’
So once more will remind us
spectres of long past betrayals.
Once more will the reasonable writing
dust like shame cover empty drawers.
We were among them and one of them,
but each wakes up to a different day.
For us this framed sketch…
These people - my dear - are no more,
and for them - my dear - there’s no us.
Sat by the bed they’ve made
They’ll tell each other the fable,
they’ll live happily ever after.
There once was a land…
- Artist:Jacek Kaczmarski