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"In paradise the work week is thirty hours salaries are higher prices always dropping physical labor is not tiring (because of lower gravity) chopping wood is like typing the social system is stable the government moderate it's certainly better in paradise than in any country At first it was supposed to be different luminous circles choirs and rungs of abstraction but one couldn't separate body from soul precisely enough and the soul would arrive with a drop of blubber a thread of muscle one had to compromise mix the grain of the absolute with the grain of clay still another falling away from the doctrine the ultimate one only John foresaw it: the resurrection of the body God is seen by few exists only for those made of pure pneuma the rest listen to communiqués about floods and miracles in time all will see God when this is to take place nobody knows In the meantime Saturday at noon the sirens roar sweetly and heavenly proletarians come out of the factories carrying their wings awkwardly like violins" Zbigniew Herbert translated by Oriana Ivy
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Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
"Report from Paradise"
"In paradise the work week is thirty hours salaries are higher prices always dropping physical labor is not tiring (because of lower gravity) chopping wood is like typing the social system is stable the government moderate it's certainly better in paradise than in any country At first it was supposed to be different luminous circles choirs and rungs of abstraction but one couldn't separate body from soul precisely enough and the soul would arrive with a drop of blubber a thread of muscle one had to compromise mix the grain of the absolute with the grain of clay still another falling away from the doctrine the ultimate one only John foresaw it: the resurrection of the body God is seen by few exists only for those made of pure pneuma the rest listen to communiqués about floods and miracles in time all will see God when this is to take place nobody knows In the meantime Saturday at noon the sirens roar sweetly and heavenly proletarians come out of the factories carrying their wings awkwardly like violins" Zbigniew Herbert translated by Oriana Ivy
Zbigniew Herbert (1924-1988) was a Polish poet.
irinia
Written by
irinia
Romanian
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
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