Zbigniew Herbert, from "Daedalus and Icarus", The Collected Poems: 1956-1998 (trans. Alissa Valles) [ID'd]

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Zbigniew Herbert, from "Daedalus and Icarus", The Collected Poems: 1956-1998 (trans. Alissa Valles) [ID'd]
"Mother," Zbigniew Herbert
Zbigniew Herbert, from The Collected Poems: 1956-1998; “I Would Like To Describe”
Text ID: I would like to describe a light / which is being born in me / but I know it does not resemble / any star / for it is not so bright / not so pure / and is uncertain
Ma conservo ancora l'illusione che la poesia sia un tentativo di imporre un po' d'ordine e crei la possibilità di comunicare con le persone attraverso l'espressione di emozioni.
Zbigniew Herbert, Herbert l'ignoto
𑣲⋆。˚ and that water? these words? what can they do? what can they do, prince? ('elegy of fortinbras' zbigniew herbert)
Stawka większa niż życie x Przesłanie Pana Cogito - Zbigniew Herbert
be courageous when reason fails you be courageous / in the final reckoning it is the only thing that counts --Zbigniew Herbert (1924-1998), trans. Alissa Valles
What Our Dead Do
by Zbigniew Herbert tr. John Carpenter
Jan came this morning —I dreamt of my father he says he was riding in an oak coffin I walked next to the hearse and father turned to me:
you dressed me nicely and the funeral is very beautiful at this time of year so many flowers it must have cost a lot
don’t worry about it father —I say—let people see we loved you that we spared nothing
six men in black livery walk nicely at our sides
father thought for a while and said—the key to the desk is in the silver inkwell there is still some money in the second drawer on the left
with this money—I say— we will buy you a gravestone a large one of black marble
it isn’t necessary—says father— better give it to the poor
six men in black livery walk nicely at our sides they carry burning lanterns
again he seemed to be thinking —take care of the flowers in the garden cover them for the winter I don’t want them to be wasted
you are the oldest—he says— from a little felt bag behind the painting take out the cuff links with real pearls let them bring you luck my mother gave them to me when I finished high school then he didn’t say anything he must have entered a deeper sleep
this is how our dead look after us they warn us through dreams bring back lost money hunt for jobs whisper the numbers of lottery tickets or when they can’t do this knock with their fingers on the windows
and out of gratitude we imagine immortality for them snug as the burrow of a mouse