Wieslaw Musialowski

Silver Star - 3,707 Points (1948 / Niemodlin / Poland)

Wieslaw Musialowski
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||| NONE OF THE POEMS PUBLISHED CAN BE COPIED, TRANSLATED OR PUBLISHED WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO TRANSLATE OR USE ONE OF THE POEMS, PLEASE DON'T HESITATE AND SEND ME A MESSAGE. THANK YOU, PRZEMYSLAW MUSIALOWSKI E-MAIL: pmusiaowski@gmail.com |||

Wieslaw Musia­lowski’s writing is often compared to the works of many Polish poets who have already passed away. He has been compared, among others, to Adam Asnyk, Boleslaw Lesmian, Juliusz Slowacki and Leopold Staff.

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 ... more »

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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
  • 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
  • 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
  • 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
  • ''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

Fable

Translated by Jarek Zawadzki

Please, tell me, Mama, with your velvet voice so true,
About the people, flowers and trees, tell me a fable.
Tell me about a honey growing linden, too;
That I may store them neatly in my mind and label:

Those true-life images that in the temples pound
Like beats of horses' hooves upon a flowery lea.
Tell me about the butterflies. For I be bound
To hail my fable brothers and the apple-tree

That will be giving out its fruits again for free.
Maybe a hedgehog finds them mid the leaves in fall,
Maybe a passing bird will ...

Read the full of Fable
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