Monday, 28 March 2016

“Look,” mother says - Anna Kamienska

“Look,” mother says in my dream,
“Look, a bird soars up to the clouds.
Why don’t you write about it,
How heavy it is, how swift?
“And here on the table—the smell
Of bread, a tinkling of plates.
You don’t need to speak of me again.
There is no me where I rest.
“I’ve passed, I’ve ceased,
It’s enough for me: goodnight!”
So I write this poem about birds,
About bread . . . Mama. Mama.

Anna Kamienska (1920 – 1986) Poland
Translated by Grazyna Drabik and David Curzon

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