Anna Swirszczynska

The old manleaves his house, carries books
A German soldier snatches his booksflings them in the mud
The old man picks them up,the soldier hits him in the face
The old man falls,the soldier kicks him and walks away

She was an evil stepmother
In her old age she is slowly dyingin an empty hovel
She shudderslike a clutch of burnt paper
She does not remember that she was evil

Cuddling in the arms her half-asphyxiated baby, howling,she ran up the staircase of the apartment building that was set ablaze
From the first floor to the second
From the second to the third
From the third to the fourth

She is sixty
She livesthe greatest love of her life
She walks arm-in-arm with her dear one,her hair streams in the wind
Her dear one says:"You have hair like pearls

Walking to your place for a love festI saw at a street corneran old beggar women
I took her hand,kissed her delicate cheek,we talked, she wasthe same inside as I am,from the same kind,
I sensed this instantlyas a dog knows by scentanothe...

You will not tame this seaeither by humility or rapture
But you can laughin its face
Laughterwas invented by thosewho live brieflyas a burst of laughter
The eternal seawill never learn to laugh

A night of loveexquisite as aconcert from old Veniceplayed on exquisite instruments
Healthy as abuttock of a little angel
Wise as ananthill
Garish as airblown into a trumpet