Zbigniew Herbert

(29 October 1924 – 28 July 1998 / Lvov)

Zbigniew Herbert Poems

1. A Ballad That We Do Not Perish 1/3/2003
2. A Description Of The King 1/3/2003
3. A Halt 1/3/2003
4. A Knocker 1/3/2003
5. A Knocker 7/24/2018
6. A Russian Tale 1/3/2003
7. About Troy 1/3/2003
8. An Answer 4/21/2010
9. Architecture 1/3/2003
10. CO MYŚLI PAN COGITO O PIEKLE 7/24/2018
11. Daedalus And Icarus 12/29/2011
12. Elegy Of Fortinbras 12/29/2011
13. Episode 4/21/2010
14. Episode 7/24/2018
15. First The Dog 4/21/2010
16. From The Top Of The Stairs 1/3/2003
17. Home 1/3/2003
18. How We Were Introduced 4/21/2010
19. How We Were Introduced 7/24/2018
20. I Would Like to Describe 7/24/2018
21. I Would Like To Describe 1/3/2003
22. In A City 12/29/2011
23. Lament 1/3/2003
24. Mr. Cogito And The Imagination 1/20/2003
25. Nothing Special 1/3/2003
26. Objects 1/3/2003
27. Our Fear 4/21/2010
28. Pebble 1/3/2003
29. Prayer Of Pan Cogito – Traveller 12/29/2011
30. Report From Paradise 4/21/2010
31. Report From The Besieged City 1/3/2003
32. Rovigo 12/29/2011
33. The Ardennes Forest 1/3/2003
34. The Envoy Of Mr Cogito 1/3/2003
35. The Envoy of Mr. Cogito 7/24/2018
36. The Fable About A Nail 12/29/2011
37. The Last Attack. To Klaus 7/24/2018
38. The Monster Of Mr Cogito 1/3/2003
39. The Power Of Taste 12/29/2011
40. The Rain 4/21/2010

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Best Poem of Zbigniew Herbert

Report From The Besieged City

Too old to carry arms and fight like the others -

they graciously gave me the inferior role of chronicler
I record - I don't know for whom - the history of the siege

I am supposed to be exact but I don't know when the invasion began
two hundred years ago in December in September perhaps yesterday at dawn
everyone here suffers from a loss of the sense of time

all we have left is the place the attachment to the place
we still rule over the ruins of temples spectres of gardens and houses
if we lose the ruins nothing will be left

I write as I can...

Read the full of Report From The Besieged City

The Envoy Of Mr Cogito

Go where those others went to the dark boundary
for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize

go upright among those who are on their knees
among those with their backs turned and those toppled in the dust

you were saved not in order to live
you have little time you must give testimony

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