Poetry

The round, hanging lanterns, Lit early, are squeaking, Ever more festively, ever brighter, The flying snowflakes glitter. And, quickening their steady gait, As if sensing some pursuit, Through the softly falling snow Under a dark blue net, the horses race. And the gilded footman Stands motionless behind the sleigh, And the Tsar looks around strangely…

1. LASER MAJESTY Light show at the Planetarium. Schlock music. Seven colors put through drum Majorette paces. “We saw God tonight,” Said Morgan, Yes, and She was chewing gum. 2. VOLTAIRE: ON A STATUE OF CHRIST IN JESUIT ATTIRE Admire these monks' excessive art And industry, who've dressed you, dear God! in their very robes…

trans. German Stuart Freibert I made myself some air every which way. It remained nicely invisible. No one saw me petting it. We went on living together. I felt great standing there finding what I sought in the air. I was partial to it because it was all around me. And it stood by me…

trans. Serbian Charles Simic with Morton Marcus Just pop into my head My thoughts the better to claw your cheek Just step in front of me My eyes the better to snap at you Just open your big mouth My silence the better to crack your jaws Just remind me of what you are My…

trans. Polish Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh The Politbureau, rumor has it, is totally controlled now by the doves. All they need is some muscle to put their liberal platform into action

These days lights come on earlier everywhere in the dark. But the time's too short to see you, that white of your eye. Love's like breath in the air at a mouth opened by astonishment. I feel your hand in my pocket. It's warm, warms my second Life. The mouth's talking slowly to itself about…

trans. Polish Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh By saying: “How can I fight for human rights, when I've got a wife and child?,” you yourself sentence them to a punishment whose measure is unknown even to the executioners.

The ones who do see some things. A cloud beautifies the sky. There's smoke over a chimney. I went off, got in my own way. Meanwhile, stories come to me about human contradiction or the climbing of ladders. You can anticipate the fall. It happens as simply as possible. People moving see it differently. The…

After a talk with my would-be publisher I myself don't know who's the author of my book. (The state, the paper allocations, the moon's pull, or other circumstances?) It'll only be half an answer: The author of my book is the Polish language 1973/1975