Don't Allow The Lucid Moment To Dissolve

A friend just lent me Sarah's Key. I searched for reviews and a positive one came up on the blog sheistoofondofbooks.com. I looked around on the blog and found a nice post about how this blogger wishes to broaden her reading habits and so she attended a poetry reading of a recommended poet. She posted this poem of his (like all his work, translated from Polish), which I in turn pass on to you:

Try to Praise the Mutilated World

By Adam Zagajewski

k

Try to praise the mutilated world.

Remember June’s long days,

and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.

The nettles that methodically overgrow

the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

You must praise the mutilated world.

You watched the stylish yachts and ships;

one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

while salty oblivion awaited others.

You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,

you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.

You should praise the mutilated world.

Remember the moments when we were together

in a white room and the curtain fluttered.

Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn

and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.

Praise the mutilated world

and the grey feather a thrush lost,

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

and returns.

p

In the comments on Dawn's post someone cited this poem, which I think I like even better. The one cited above was written right after 9/11, so the darkness is understandable, and the hope is remarkable. In this next one hope and light more prominently assume center stage:

j

Don't Allow The Lucid Moment To Dissolve

By Adam Zagajewski

l

Don't allow the lucid moment to dissolve

Let the radiant thought last in stillness

though the page is almost filled and the flame flickers

We haven't risen yet to the level of ourselves

Knowledge grows slowly like a wisdom tooth

The stature of a man is still notched

high up on a white door

From far off, the joyful voice of a trumpet

and of a song rolled up like a cat

What passes doesn't fall into a void

A stoker is still feeding coal into the fire

Don't allow the lucid moment to dissolve

On a hard dry substance

you have to engrave the truth

n

Translated by Renata Gorczynski