Archive for the ‘Adam Zagajewski’ Tag

Lucid Moments   1 comment

Costa’s Hummingbird Outside Kitchen Window – Image by kenne

Don’t Allow the Lucid Moment to Dissolve

 
Don’t allow the lucid moment to dissolve
Let the radiant thought last in stillness
though the page is almost filled and the flame flickers
We haven’t risen yet to the level of ourselves
Knowledge grows slowly like a wisdom tooth
The stature of a man is still notched
high up on a white door
From far off, the joyful voice of a trumpet
and of a song rolled up like a cat
What passes doesn’t fall into a void
A stoker is still feeding coal into the fire
Don’t allow the lucid moment to dissolve
On a hard dry substance
you have to engrave the truth
 
— Adam Zagajewski
Translated by Renata Gorczynski

 

Stary Sacz, A Poem by Adam Zagajewski     Leave a comment

Red-bellied Woodpecker (Kingwood, Texas) — Image by Hugh Poland

Stary Sacz

A woodpecker in his red cap suddenly brought back
the stationmaster in Stary Sacz.
Over the station rose a little town,
that is, an enormous market and convent of Poor Clares;
each house had one window holding jars of borscht and pickles.

The innkeeper’s daughter was so thin
that she kept bricks in her backpack to outwit the wind
when she crossed the viaduct above the train tracks.
The wind never got her, but other elements weren’t idle,
especially Nothingness and her rich suitor, Mr. Time.

Adam Zagajewski

******

Robert Pinsky wrote in The New Republic: “[In the poetry of Adam Zagajewski] the unmistakable quality
of the real thing–a sunlike force that wilts clichés and bollixes that categories of expectation–
manifests itself powerfully . . . Like a fish breaking water . . . the achievement of these poems [“Without End”]
is partly in that act of rising above a lived-in element. In Zagajewski’s work, the engulfing, ferocious
historical reality appears as our habitat–not a well of horrors to be borrowed for rhetorical thunder,
not an occasion for verse punditry, not a mere backdrop for sensibility. And the perception of that habitat
has a mysterious, elating power.”

Life Is All About Perspectives   1 comment

 ‘Weed’ On the Patio — Photo-Artistry by kenne

I have subscribed to The New Yorker for years and find it helpful to see things from different perspectives; some I like, some I don’t. Many great writers, some of which I agree with, some I don’t. It’s all a matter of perspective, which is what this poem is all about — It’s only boogie-woogie.

BOOGIE-WOOGIE

You shout from the other room
You ask me how to spell boogie-woogie
And instantly I think what luck
no war has been declared
no fire has consumed
our city’s monuments
our bodies our dwellings

The fiver didn’t flood
no friends 
have been arrested
It’s only boogie-woogie
I sign relieved
and say it’s spelled just as it sounds
boogie-woogie

— Adam Zagajewski (The New Yorker, July 5, 2021)

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