Wieslaw Musialowski

Gold Star - 9,569 Points (1948 / Niemodlin / Poland)

Wieslaw Musialowski
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Wieslaw Musia­lowski’s writing is often compared to the works of great Polish national poets who have already passed away. He has been compared, among others, to Maria Konopnicka 1842-1910, Cyprian Kamil Norwid 1821-1883, Juliusz Slowacki 1809-1849 and Adam Asnyk 1838-1897.

Wieslaw Musialowski was born on June 20,1948 in Niemodlin. For the first six years of his life he was raised mainly by his grandmother, Emilia Musialow­ska, née Szczepanska. Three poems have been dedi­cated to her and to the poet’s recollections of those years: FOR EMILY SZ., EPITAPH and EMILLIA SZ—’S EMBRO­IDERY.

Emilia Musialowska came from Kamieniec Po­dol­ski. She always used the “wy” form ... more »

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Wieslaw Musialowski Quotations

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  • Come bless my brittle dreams, oh Lord, and let them all
    Take on the form of your consent, so that I may
    Perceive my own reflection in the glassy wall

    Wieslaw Musialowski (...
    request, mirror, reflection, truth
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  • So much do I demand - perhaps it is a sin,
    But I am only dreaming of the boundless will
    And hope that I shall muster needed strength therein,
    If you but let me, Lord, to go on d...
    truth, reflection, mirror
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  • Little princess, a homonymy of frost,
    That put you up upon a fairy windowpane,
    Sleep well, now breath is gone, it is the end;

    Wieslaw Musialowski (1948-) , Polish poet....
    princess, fable, death
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  • You need no more death poems now, my Princess Dear,
    For sun will kiss you with his ray of golden grace
    And you will fall asleep with a smile upon your face
    And you will be the tr...
    princess, happiness
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  • ''Like faded verses of a few bleak years of life
    Upon this world where all you knew was dearth and strife

    Wieslaw Musialowski (1948-) , Polish poet. 'Princess.'''
    hardship, sad, reality
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Best Poem of Wieslaw Musialowski

A Butterfly Pinned Down

Translated by Jarek Zawadzki

How beautiful you are, oh butterfly,
But sadly from the display case you stare,
Stone-dead in a pose on a wing of an August day,
When you would rather hover in the air.

No wind now, lightly blowing, that may come
Will ever make you rise from non-existence
Or carry you as if a speck of dust
So that you savor altitude and distance.

No sunny ray will ever touch your wings,
The wings that sleep so widely open now.
You're like a sunless rainbow that upon
A pitch-black cloud has been bedimmed somehow.

No elm ...

Read the full of A Butterfly Pinned Down