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Poetry

Bugging

By Piotr Sommer
Translated from Polish by W. Martin & Christian Hawkey

And of course the birds go on chirping, and how!
Even if they’re not chirping.
Bah, wires can chirp almost as well,
so it’s easy to confuse them. It’s altogether loud
and sensuous, almost phonetic.
And the flowers blossom to make things colorful,
and later wither, first on the graves, but they’re bent
out of shape there, mostly due to us
passing by on the paths between the trees
as if nothing had happened.
And no way to avoid the brown-eyed gaze of the pansies,
which have all but disappeared now from the flower beds,
forced out by nasturtiums and marigolds. No flower beds either.
All the hazel eyes are rotting now underground.

Translation of “Podsłuch.” Copyright Piotr Sommer. By arrangement with the author. Translation copyright 2011 by W. Martin and Christian Hawkey. All rights reserved.

English Polish (Original)

And of course the birds go on chirping, and how!
Even if they’re not chirping.
Bah, wires can chirp almost as well,
so it’s easy to confuse them. It’s altogether loud
and sensuous, almost phonetic.
And the flowers blossom to make things colorful,
and later wither, first on the graves, but they’re bent
out of shape there, mostly due to us
passing by on the paths between the trees
as if nothing had happened.
And no way to avoid the brown-eyed gaze of the pansies,
which have all but disappeared now from the flower beds,
forced out by nasturtiums and marigolds. No flower beds either.
All the hazel eyes are rotting now underground.

Podsłuch

I oczywiście dalej ćwierkają ptaki, i to jak!
Nawet jak nie ćwierkają.
Ba, druty potrafią ćwierkać niewiele gorzej,
że można je pomylić. W ogóle jest dźwięcznie
i zmysłowo, wręcz fonetycznie.
I kwitną kwiaty, żeby było kolorowo,
a potem więdną, najpierw na grobach, bo tam są cięte
na wszystko, najbardziej na nas
przechodzących alejkami pośród drzew,
jak gdyby nigdy nic.
I nie ma jak uniknąć piwnego wzroku bratków
których prawie nie ma dziś na klombach,
wyparły je nasturcje i aksamitki. Nie ma też klombów.
Wszystkie brązowe oczy gniją już pod ziemią.

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