I stare at the mirror
not because I'm vain
and not because I'm pretty
I stare at the mirror
because the person looking back
is not me
It's a black, shadowy wisp
that runs away
when I try to touch it

the peach twinkles
from the windows above
put spots over my eyes,
so that i could look
straight at the sunset

somehow—
the glint of the moon
on the crystals that dangled,
turned the fog
to fireworks.

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/9/2019

From boulder to boulder, I was standing on a fragile plank
that separates light from darkness, death from life,
over the huge explosion of the precipice foamed...
Below me, the roar and beating of the wings of a dark night.

Through the moist floor of the moss tapestries, the abyss
is growling and, like a hound, rattling with the chain...
At my feet its foams, its anger, its howling...
I trample them, I strike them with lightning bolts... I am just a shade.

From boulder to boulder, I've descended under the mad assault
of waters, ferociously rushing at me and at the the abyss,
stunned by the simultaneous firing of a hundred death's guns.

And suddenly I felt like a light bird feather,
carried far away from the quiet marina by the breeze,
and trembling, I covered my eyes... I was just daydreaming.

Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 11/9/2019

Since you have flashed in my silent sky
with a flaming star flying into the abyss,
I know what life is and I know what is dying,
- because of you I live, because of you I die.

You are a poisonous flower from which I collect nectar,
You are a thunder and a storm from which I draw silence,
You are grind and discord with which to sleep I rock myself,
I live because of you, because of you I die.

My chest is getting cold, my heart is beating fast,
under your kisses and under your touch,
I die with delight, with passion I rise,
- because of you I live, and because of you I die.

On you, oh wave, I lean my head,
on you I put my wings, oh raging gale,
with you, destruction, I double my strength,
I live because of you, because of you I die.

Your caresses are bells at my funeral,
Your caresses are golden bowls of happiness,
You are the fire that puts out the flames...
you are the water that starts a blaze...
I live because of you, because of you I die! ...

Maria Konopnicka (1842-1910)

i walked for 7 years in the forest of regretful deers

they spoke to me so quietly their deepest fears

i pet them gently and spores crumbled off their backs

their greatest fears come seeping through the cracks

The red brick roofs,
telephone wires,
and soft, evenings like this
are what I will remember
in the coming years.
Sipping lychee drinks
and watching the pale pink
of the horizon’s glow.
And it’s so still,
so quiet
except for the steady air
the breeze of distant cars
and children’s voices
from the old park.

This is the night town,
a town of peace.
though, really, it’s a village.
My village.
Unnoticed on common maps.
I used to see it as so,
so small
because I know every path,
every hidden street,
and all the fields that surround them.
But now I’ve realised
that it’s holy ground.
Ironic for an agnostic,
but I love the songs
the blackbirds sing
outside my window
in the mornings,
and at night,
and now,
the time when everything is soft.
Since we’ve passed the spring equinox
I’ll find comfort in
domestic love,
in a place it takes
fifteen minutes to walk round.
Please be quiet.
I just want to sit, and listen.