Grzegorz Wróblewski
Mice
We know them only through descriptions in books.
They have to be small, fluffy and quite cunning? Or maybe you mean
midsummer night?
An old cat is also indispensable. (All the people you could trust have been
eradicated.)
Experienced enough not to be afraid of fireworks in Iraq?
You suggest making love in the fresh air. And let there even be
predatory leeches.
‘Cause we’ve come too much unstuck from the skin.
It seems to us that the sun was installed yesterday by Mcorso,
the stiff from the ground floor, the scenography guy.
The Dodo
The islanders lick the snow with respect.
No occultists in sight. (The feuding cats
are out of the game.) The dodo couldn’t
adjust
(the hot ocean evaporated from the stone floor).
I stopped walking.
And here’s my skipping rope!
I roll in a jar,
together with a damaged sweet cherry
and an autistic beetle.
A Marzipan Factory
Even birds persuaded that I’d lost my mind and terrified
chose the tricks of the street juggler. (Where are the promised
moors?)
Worried tramps steal a paper medallion with
rose petals fastened to it.
I don’t react, nor call anybody for help. The city’s guardian
passes me by
not suspecting anything.
Lying under the monument of a Danish king, I patiently wait for
the bus to S.
I’ll have a look at the chimneys of a marzipan factory closed down
a dozen years ago.
He’s Worth Following
Let’s go, he’ll lead us to the apartment that still belonged to us today,
he’ll fish the keys
out of the sea,
This is not a dog although the natives describe him as such
he must have fallen out of the sky
I realized it
from the way he would conduct his argumentation –
He made two steps forward
And then
The sandstorm came.
(The above poems are taken from Grzegorz Wróblewski's most recent collection, A Marzipan Factory, published by Otoliths.)
Grzegorz Wróblewski was born in 1962 in Gdansk and grew up in Warsaw, Poland. Since 1985 he has lived in Copenhagen. He has published ten volumes of poetry and two collections of short prose pieces in Poland; three books of poetry, a book of oetic prose and an experimental novel (translations) in Denmark; and selected poems in Bosnia-Herzegovina (Mostar 2002). He has also published a selection of plays. His work has been translated into eight languages.
Adam Zdrodowski, born in 1979, poet and translator, is preparing his PhD on Elizabeth Bishop. His translations include Lifting Belly by Gertrude Stein, prose pieces by Raymond Roussel and William S. Burroughs as well as poems by James Schuyler and Mark Ford. His poems have appeared in: Odra, Dwukropek and Dziennik portowy. He is the author of two collections of poetry: Przygody, etc. (2005, Adventures, etc.) and Jesień Zuzanny (2007, Susanna’s Autumn). He lives in Warsaw.
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Warrior I
Mice
We know them only through descriptions in books.
They have to be small, fluffy and quite cunning? Or maybe you mean
midsummer night?
An old cat is also indispensable. (All the people you could trust have been
eradicated.)
Experienced enough not to be afraid of fireworks in Iraq?
You suggest making love in the fresh air. And let there even be
predatory leeches.
‘Cause we’ve come too much unstuck from the skin.
It seems to us that the sun was installed yesterday by Mcorso,
the stiff from the ground floor, the scenography guy.
The Dodo
The islanders lick the snow with respect.
No occultists in sight. (The feuding cats
are out of the game.) The dodo couldn’t
adjust
(the hot ocean evaporated from the stone floor).
I stopped walking.
And here’s my skipping rope!
I roll in a jar,
together with a damaged sweet cherry
and an autistic beetle.
A Marzipan Factory
Even birds persuaded that I’d lost my mind and terrified
chose the tricks of the street juggler. (Where are the promised
moors?)
Worried tramps steal a paper medallion with
rose petals fastened to it.
I don’t react, nor call anybody for help. The city’s guardian
passes me by
not suspecting anything.
Lying under the monument of a Danish king, I patiently wait for
the bus to S.
I’ll have a look at the chimneys of a marzipan factory closed down
a dozen years ago.
He’s Worth Following
Let’s go, he’ll lead us to the apartment that still belonged to us today,
he’ll fish the keys
out of the sea,
This is not a dog although the natives describe him as such
he must have fallen out of the sky
I realized it
from the way he would conduct his argumentation –
He made two steps forward
And then
The sandstorm came.
All poems translated by Adam Zdrodowski.
(The above poems are taken from Grzegorz Wróblewski's most recent collection, A Marzipan Factory, published by Otoliths.)
Warrior II
Grzegorz Wróblewski was born in 1962 in Gdansk and grew up in Warsaw, Poland. Since 1985 he has lived in Copenhagen. He has published ten volumes of poetry and two collections of short prose pieces in Poland; three books of poetry, a book of oetic prose and an experimental novel (translations) in Denmark; and selected poems in Bosnia-Herzegovina (Mostar 2002). He has also published a selection of plays. His work has been translated into eight languages.
Adam Zdrodowski, born in 1979, poet and translator, is preparing his PhD on Elizabeth Bishop. His translations include Lifting Belly by Gertrude Stein, prose pieces by Raymond Roussel and William S. Burroughs as well as poems by James Schuyler and Mark Ford. His poems have appeared in: Odra, Dwukropek and Dziennik portowy. He is the author of two collections of poetry: Przygody, etc. (2005, Adventures, etc.) and Jesień Zuzanny (2007, Susanna’s Autumn). He lives in Warsaw.
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