|
|
 |
|
|
Try To Praise The Mutilated World
|
|
|
User Rating: |
|
9.9
/10
(12
votes)
|
|
|
|
|
|
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.
Translated by Renata Gorczynski
Anonymous submission.
Adam Zagajewski
|
|
Read poems about / on: june, remember, autumn, music, together, world, lost, light
|
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
Comments about this poem (Try To Praise The Mutilated World
by
Adam Zagajewski
) |
|
Click here to write your
comments about this poem (Try To Praise The Mutilated World by
Adam Zagajewski
)
 |
Clare Cavanagh
(4/1/2008 4:23:00 PM) |
I am the translator of this poem, and not Renata Gorczynski, as the original publication in The New Yorker and later in Zagajewski's collection 'Without End, ' will confirm. I'd appreciate your chaning the attribution here. Thank you.
|
|
|
|
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
 |
|
People who read
Adam Zagajewski
|
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
 |
|
