Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski

And, after all, nothing has changed:
Home, children, worries - our daily lives plot,
and suddenly a smell of different strength...
forget-me-not.

Wieslaw Musialowski

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 7/19/2018

All because of the gap in the wooden ceiling
and because of this hole in a patched roof,
because Life with freedom has enthused
and flown away in the direction unknown.

They say that like a rainbow, hung for a moment,
which is a harbinger of good weather after the rain
and it had wings colorful like butterflies
- of such unusual ordinary beauty.

They say it had charming veil
like morning fog over a blossomed meadow
and it looked like a happy bird
resembling so much the larks over the heavens.

Then on a field willow it sat
And having sung... it vanished.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 10/21/2003

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 5/27/2019

Mother, you know - darkness is coming,
so lend me a lantern
that I may distinguish in the dark what is black.
That I may feel the white of the jasmines,
though their smell still makes me think of death,
but this affliction I would like to cure.
Plant the soothing flowers
and say - on the field furrows, like on a lowland meadow,
moments of happiness bloom as well
from a passage - to a passage.
Send me a letter of hope that you will be able to come
and that you will blow the candle out
when the time to wake up comes.
You will lead me by the hand because I am still a child,
and I'm not ashamed to ask you - talk to God there
about difficult matters - after all, you also
shared the burdens of existence,
here where every day is different
and where there are no sinless.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 5/26/2019

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/27/2019

You are the Sisyphus of the modern world,
you try to move the boulder in the streets
narrow and winding, but it's so heavy,
and getting heavier on the scale of passing time,
you are getting older and older after every midnight,
so your figure - becomes angular,
and the cobble-****** street - trodden and slippery;
and the gutter has overgrown from all kind of the sewage
- you have scratches that don't want to heal,
the cataract has crept into worn-out eyes.

Youth has betrayed you, but not only you
- you'll get a wreath at the big funeral.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 12/4/2018

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/28/2019

Dream, my Love, dream life,
let the night not scare you anymore,
we survived harder days before,
we survived more difficult years.

I could only give as much as
life itself was offering
when I still had enough strength
to struggle against all odds,
to straighten each of the roads,
although there were hundreds of twists,
but it was easier to keep walking
because fate was often helping us along,
and our parents' warm encouraging voice:
that we'll succeed despite the storms,
though maybe with a field flower
instead of a rose.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 12/4/2018

Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 7/11/2018

The spring outside the window smells of first rain,
And though autumn has colored hair with gray
- I love you still.

We won't leave by the same train,
Because it wasn't written in the Book of Fate,
- I still love you.

The words of hope which into the poem I compose,
Throw on my grave and remember, Dear,
- I love you as before.

Although into the Unknown carried by momentum's force
Maybe I will meet you in the endless blue one day
- And love I will.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 08/2012