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24 stycznia 2006
Poems by Jan Twardowski
Translated by Stanislaw Baranczak & Clare Cavanagh
JAN TWARDOWSKI 1915 - 2006

The World

God hid himself so that the world could be seen
if he'd made himself known there would only be him
and who in his presence would notice the ant
the handsome, peevish wasp worrying in circles
the green drake with his yellow legs
the peewit laying its four eggs
crosswise the dragonfly's round eyes beans in the pod
our mother at the table holding not so long ago
a mug by its big funny ear
the fir tree shedding husks instead of cones
pain and delight both ways to learn
equally mysteries but never the same
stones which show travelers the way

love that is invisible
hides nothing

* * * * * * *

Hungry

My God is hungry
he's just a bag of bones
he's got no money
no lofty silver domes

Candles can't help him
hymns give him no rest
doctors have no cure
for his thin hollow chest

Governments patrols police
are powerless
love is the only food
his lips will bless

* * * * * * *

The Jesus of Nonbelievers

The Jesus of nonbelievers
walks among us
known a little from kitsch
and a bit from word-of-mouth
responsibly passed over
in the morning paper
defenseless
partyless
endlessly debated
avoided like a graveyard
for the victims of the plague
necessarily gray
therefore perfectly safe

the Jesus of nonbelievers
walks among us
sometimes he stops
and stands like a hard cross

believers nonbelievers
we'll all be joined
by the unearned pain
that leads us toward truth

* * * * * * *

As It Must

You grasshopper with only one autumn to live
you unloved loving heart
you sadness just for the two
who'll get their apartment in twenty years
you happiness more or less
you wounding truth
you aunt on whose ID some kid has scrawled a beard
you dignitary soon to be booted downstairs[]

all will be as it must

Translated by Stanislaw Baranczak & Clare Cavanagh

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