Jacek Kaczmarski - Przypowieść na własne 44. urodziny versuri traducere în engleză

Parable for own ??? birthday

Pioneer of gutters, gutterings, cornices, rooftops
Well travelled in palaces, fluffy beds
To myself a secret, pride, and terror
To nobody owing mercy or respect
I step thoroughly through shadowy troughs of night
I look through windows, into the glass books of light
I comprehend insomnia – bastard of insomnia's
when – like it or not – someone else's takes me for a witness
No use out of me here: I’m battling through the night
I – Le Diable boiteux, I – a March raunchy tomcat
 
behind his desk, a politician’s blacking out the papers
so thickly, he can’t even tell when he lies
into ecstasy turned agony, with mere words
insomnia of ambition lulling his memories
the window suggests an elevated reflection
In halo of fur glowing eyes’ fountain
'Look at me! I don't sleep so you may lie in lethargy.
‘without me, ye ungrateful, meet the bottom line!'
No use for me here: I have pride of my own
and conceited passion at odds with reason
 
A banker sic —ing cigar's smoke against slumber
He's planning tomorrow's merciful cut
that will let all the blood out of a partner
bringing a mutually beneficial venture to its extent
He sights the lame creature in the window
and teases old unused conscience:
'Victory likes silence. Failure likes the crowd.
Herring likes onion, and money – wordlessness'
No use for me here: I have my own turf
where the world is all viscera and graft
 
Sleepless author longing hugs a phial
As if the spirits could lend him spirit
Words once great became trivial
even yelled out fall completely mute
Pigeons sleep in nests made of their own soil
moonlike reflection of swaying head of a cat
he dreamed of freedom and he is given leeway
so as to take away remnats of faith and prospect
No use for me here: I have my own glooms
and my own loneliness that never adjourns
 
Behind this window, a pair is mating furiously.
gasping silence not to disturb children’s sleep
just behind the door - a litter of four sleeping cuddly
She's determined to last, he's enduring the lust
And they pray, they pray to be more wealthy
Trusting shadows more than they trust each other
They're praying to God, so he pulls them out of poverty
For misery lives off lust, like life lives off love
No use for me here: when I get horny
I think of nothing, I care for no deities
 
And here! This window – Death lives all alone
feeding on remnants of joys and guilt
Noiselessly past this one I shamble
before merciful oblivion embraces [me]
 
First day of Spring spewed me in convulsion
writhing in instincts and senses
To catress I annouce my yowling proclaimation
I warn a cat with hateful hiss
Myself I was a god! The oracle to mankind
Envoy of witches, clever cat Behemoth
now – lines of my borders – I mark with nasty broth
for my existences so many, for the score I care not
 
what, when, why, where, how much and what for
uncessant battles of inedaquacies spectator
 


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