Poetry by Milosz Biedrzycki
translated by Ewa Chrusciel


Hymn

the stains of insects are translucent light, full of might.
the remains of insects splashed on front windows, are
translucent light.
the river foaming with bumps and roaring under the axle
of the truck, is translucent light.
the front and rear axle of the truck flowing over congealed
asphalt river, are translucent light.
huge ploughed field, white with storks getting ready to
take off, is translucent light.
a pilgrimage moving on the side of highway, a nun with a
bullhorn high on a pole, are translucent light.
pilgrims in slanting ropes of rain, a nun with a bullhorn
high on a pole, are translucent light.
storks wading through a brown field, a stubble turned
upside down to earth, are translucent light.
children selling dusty plums on the roadside, are translucent
light.
the tight skin of plums under the threads of rain, children
clinging to a trunk under the thick crown, are translucent
light.
the dam above the highway, the mirror of the pond
chopped with rain needles, are translucent light.
the fissure of red sky between the rain and the horizon
two rows of lindens accompanying the wet gravel towards
horizon
reflected red on the wires along the highway.


Mróz

byl taki, ze drzewa krzyczaly
gwiazdy w miarowych odstepach
czasu gasly i osuwaly sie w dól
z delikatnym brzekiem
tracanej nozem szklanki

tez szukam ciszy
ale samo milczenie
pewnie nie wystarczy?


Frost

was such that the trees were screaming
the stars at regular intervals
went out and slid down
with a delicate clink
of a glass tapped with a knife

i too look for silence
but would stillness itself
be enough.