visit old places
to search among memories
in hope to find you

I wasn’t looking for love but it found me.
This was the place where I first saw you,
Now places turning into memories, and memories filling my mind.
Was the nights this long or am I going crazy.
Am I in your head or am I alone, on my own with your smile in front my eyes.
I wasn’t looking for you but you found me.

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 10/5/2019

Sitting on the perch the rooster boasted:
soon the king of swimmers I'll be
and laurel wreath I will get:
Cos the champion of champions I am in this respect!
The hens, excited, clucked in admiration,
small yellow chicks silently listened in awe,
oinking happily were the piglets,
and the ducks? Like crazy they laughed!

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/15/2001

don’t tell me “I love you” ~by Roxanne, for Cyrano~

<>

that’s a verse I’ve heard many too times before,
that’s a curse of low majesty, a quatrain too plain,
if that’s your best sally, retreat, say no more,
too simp verses, or ungolden silences, agents of dissatisfying pain

I need the best of your taste
the finest visions that you eyelids occlude,
make haste for my mouth grows exceedingly
impatient for the other senses to do their tandem wooing

slap only my face with the creature comforts others savor,
words of diamonds and pink pearls mined from your breast,
the bejeweled words that will decorate my evergreen,
that never dies, lest, unless and until,
you want my mortal affection suppressed

give me your linguistic promiscuity, wake me from the stupor
of ordinary, arouse me with thy tongue coiling, a bee sting delivery,
a wet poem that makes all my offices weep, your mouth,
my souls recouper,
your wizardry bewitching,
answer my inquiry with unbounded festivity

then and after all, the plain simplicity of an “I love you,”
will be edged with sublimity, my mercies, your mercies
our jointed, sharp pointy, introverting, interlocking,
our futures becoming
our pasts

11:07am
19-9-30

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https://thenewgroup.org/production/cyrano/?gclid=Cj0KCQjwz8bsBRC6ARIsAEyNnvoENpdnWyqeUEwq0avNStgWCf4CocB1i2­39c2mHdNSFF8gOlWZtfjsaAls4EALw_wcB

somberly standing
slowly sulking
stoic and sad
steadily swaying
sadly saturated
in sobriety

I spend too long
Staring into the sun
The flicking tongues
Of radiation
Spilling into space

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 8/20/2018

Kneeling before you,
I bow my head low,
confessing the truths
due to the Motherland:

it's you who taught me
to see beauty with a word,
and when I entrusted
my soul to you,
you made the bed
with mirror thought
- looking-glass' reflection -
dressed in pensive ponderings.

I love you, Poland,
when you are blooming in spring.
Your fertile fields
of gold wheat and barley.

I love,
when in summer,
in the aroma of linden trees,
adorned with flowers,
you lure with cool shade.

I love in autumn:
saddened,
rainy.

I love with pure and
unchanging love,
full of joy
of sins remission:
of Christmas Eve
examination of conscience.

I love, from south to north,
in February cold
and in hot July.

Your steel statues
of the Carpathian peaks.
Your streams, when rumbling
they carry the March ice floes.
Your beautiful sparkling willow greens
of Masurian waters,
when the sun is chasing
dancing rays
-with emerald's spark
of silver-plated steel,
before they'll disappear
with colors of the rainbow
in the hazy distance.

Your ancient castles,
standing proudly since the times of Piasts.

Your dunes, tamed with dwarf pine,
your country homesteads on the Bug and Prosna.

Polish wolves', eager for blood,
fearful thundering voices.
The heroic fate of the brave Polish armies.
Golden wheat ears of liberation
in the coat of arms of the Nation.

At the sources of the Vistula
I love you with reverie:
And over transparent waters
further reaches
I sob.

You'll hug me,
Mother!
Your son,
when you'll tuck me in
as my only Ma
-buried,
with eternal... loving.

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/9/2001

What you see
It isn't me

I didn't go there looking for you
I went looking for me

But here you are
and somehow in finding you
I think I've found myself to