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BOHDAN WROCŁAWSKI

(b. 1944) - poet, playwright and novelist. He debuted in 1967 a volume of poetry "Line Gratings." Recently published a "silent pact" (2003) and "Another taste of the Moon" (2006). Editor website pisarze.pl . He lives in Warsaw.

Smolensk fog

Fog over Smolensk airport still does not drop
becomes stable as the state institutions
which is distinguished by the holidays and funerals
only provoke our thoughts still deprived of their liberty and imagination

move slowly along the wall and crying can be heard sobbing


small child is hungry, we are eternally looking for signs
my children Szopenów Norwidów Fieldorfów
those whose memory using buried permafrost of Siberia and imperfections

slowly moving along Krakowski Suburb
right up to the end of our loneliness
pain which can not yet understand but which is tied
our thoughts on a permanent

warmed his hands cup with hot tea poured from the thermos
is salty like our solitude wyłkana
tears that without our presence
begin their adult lives have

meanwhile someone play the violin, picking up his eyes
look where the sound is coming
not see anybody few clouds roof Dziekanka whisper prayers
someone opens his arms wide
guess is tired of wandering Wisla
bypasses Sobieszewo Island and into the ever-hungry sea

so ends our hopes of wayward dreams

Loneliness

But now You know you know you see it
Next to you are just like the ones you
constantly deprived of the sense of existence You
together

Finally together
Near clouds zawiązujących delicate violin music

sighs You see a little ginger girl scout
receives from you flowers and light your absence
Set them among the tens of hundreds of thousands of other
is so great as the original song of the purest rock caverns
burning fireplace in the
laying out the circle of warmth and security

This is our house
man's house memory and the power of modesty

still looking at the smiling girl scout
when shoveling
hair falling flaming candles illuminate it purest human
I look


Admit You're touched by the emotion
that it was not you here yesterday and even earlier
And only your imagination has opened is inspired by the music of violins

Which now permanently settled in you

first edition: "Gazeta Poland" April 13, 2011