Marzanna B. Kielar
*** (From there: to love the thick scale of light on the water...)
From there: to love the thick scale of light on the water
and snow swept by the wind. Singed over fire,
the branches of winters. There, in the desert, in the stilled sands

to look at this sky, at the rim of the snow-covered roof
with icicles of days breaking off.
When love comes back and reminds us of our true being.
When it pieces together the body of the world again, anew,
and sun ties up the revolving earth.
And child's laughter bubbles, fizzes, in the icy morning.

Again to have a name: a rib vault
that supports voices of the loved ones.

To stand where a house was, feel among the weeds a difference in levels.
May death startle like sparrows, and hours sparkle
in the bars of the morning light, when brightness
wanders from one corner to the next.

To drink - this lake living behind the dam of ice,
where the whole universe is born moment after moment:
shapes of blood and dream, sounds, desire, sweat.

Where the wind unfurls above the hill a banner of snow dust.
Darkness barks, summoning, when we fall asleep side by side,
two teaspoons in a locked drawer, forgotten during a move
(when again I become dew and clouds, I will breathe
you -

you will surge close like sea
at night)

(From: "Monodia" 2006)

translated by Elżbieta Wójcik-Leese
Marzanna Bogumiła Kielar
fot. Jarosław J. Jasiński

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