Eryk Ostrowski
The Aleph Review presents two poems in Polish with English translations by Sergiy Kuzin.
A Buoy
(Translated from Polish by Sergiy Kuzin)
I was swimming trying to reach it
with my arms spread
on my father’s shoulders
The sun was laying
fleeting shadows
on the bottom
and there were little flounders
and some jellyfish
Then there was
a sudden chill
and darkness,
a smell of salt
and mould
It was a buoy floating,
tied to a rusty chain
which it was knocking against
with every wave
monotonously and mechanically
The thing was covered in seaweed
and no longer scary
So much so that you could even
pet it,
this dog of the Baltic Sea
I’m looking for it today
with my arms spread
It’s cold
and damp
Perhaps in the dark
I’ll hear
the chain’s
dry and rasping clank
Original Polish Version - "Boja"
Płynąłem do niej
z rękami rozprostartymi
na ramionach ojca
Dołem słońce
kładło nad dnem
prędkie cienie
maleńkie stornie
chełbie
Potem nagle
robiło się chłodno
i ciemno
pachniało solą
i stęchlizną
Dryfowała
na pordzewiałym łańcuchu
obijał się o nią
z każdą falą
monotonnie i posłusznie
Splątana wodorostami
nie była już groźna
Dawała się nawet
pogłaskać
Pies Bałtyku
Szukam go dziś
rozprostartymi rękami
Jest chłodno
i wilgotno
Może w ciemności
usłyszę
suchy dźwięk
łańcucha
On Singing Wings (Translated from Polish by Sergiy Kuzin)
You tell me
that I’ll leave you
return to the past
explode
the fragile valley
of our crocuses
into the poppy seeds
of misery
If only you knew
the weight of flowers in bloom, this gift
that thickens
poetry notebooks
the steel of a car window
against which
a nitwit is knocking
their head
without breaking
the glass
the breathing hair
disheveled
not by the wind
and on which people
hang themselves
a scheherazadian tale
of tears
behind which
an undisturbed world goes on
where life and death
are one
No you cannot know that
although you walk the earth
using my feet
Theirs is the knowledge
With the feet that waited their turn
to get their singing wings
you cannot return
to the past
barefoot
Original Polish Version - "Śpiewające skrzydła"
Mówisz
że odejdę
że wrócę w przeszłość
rozbiję
kruchą polanę
naszych krokusów
w drobny mak
nieszczęścia
Gdybyś znał
Ciężar darowanego kwiatu
od którego puchnie
notes do wierszy
stal samochodowej szyby
o którą rozbija się
tępa głowa
ślepo
i nie może przebić
żywe włosy
targane
nie przez wiatr
na których trącają się
wisielcy
baśń
z tysiąca i jednej łzy
za którą trwa
nieporuszony świat
gdzie życie i śmierć
to jedno
Ale nie możesz znać
choć stąpasz po ziemi
moimi stopami
Tylko one wiedzą
stopami które doczekały się
śpiewających skrzydeł
nie wraca się
na bosaka
w przeszłość
Eryk Ostrowski is from Kraków, Poland. He has published several poetry collections and three speculative biographies of the Brontës.
Albert Baertsoen (Belgian, 1866–1922) was born into a Ghent working-class family. He was practically self-taught and became one of the most important artists in the Belgian and international art scene of the fin de siècle. He had a blitz career. He was only 22 years old when he won the gold medal at the Antwerp Salon in 1888. Baertsoen became an appreciated painter of landscapes of the Scheldt region, the North Sea and the hinterland, and also portrayed the industrial landscapes of Liège.
Albert Baertsoen’s success extended beyond Belgium’s borders. At the turn of the 20th century, he was one of the most internationally renowned Belgian artists (his work was, for example, exhibited at the Venice Biennale and at the Vienna Secession). He owed his international success to, among other things, his large network, his distinctive voice and his impressionistic style.
Sergiy Kuzin is a poetry translator and independent publisher based in Ukraine.
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