From the Morning Call: Our Lord’s Ascension Polish National Catholic Church, 2105 Jennings St., Bethlehem, will celebrate Mass for the Dormition (Assumption) of the Blessed Virgin Mary at 8 a.m. today. The blessing of herbs, flowers and vegetables in honor of the Dormition of Mary will be held at the beginning of the 9 a.m. Sunday Mass. Info: 610-865-1514.
Within the vale the stream runs on.
Sycamores shield it with their boughs.
I think of evenings long since gone
When you, Justine, and I made vows.Night passed too quickly: then pale day
Allowed one single last caress.
Our love had stolen sleep away.
Love feeds upon our sleeplessness.Dawn whitened earth. We saw on each
Sycamore diamond signatures.
We sat unmoving, without speech,
And carved our names, my name and yours.No one sneered, and no one knew;
Heaven alone watched over us.
There was no guilt between us two.
Heaven did not think me infamous.Look answered look as hand clasped hand.
Two mouths, made one, drank from one bowl.
Our bodies learned to understand
And soul, when asked, replied to soul.Then thunder came: a storm arose:
An ancient oak fell like a stone:
And, trembling as you held me close,
You said, “I will not die alone.”Here, to this stream, that apple tree,
I often come and try to think.
My thirst was never slaked till she
With her own hands gave me to drink.But nothing in this world will keep.
Fate parts us, angry Fate, and blind.
A country yokel tending sheep
Has blotted out the names we signed.No, there is not a single trace.
The wood is overgrown and sere.
The stream, the sycamores, keep their place,
But you Justine, you are not here.
Translated by Jerzy Peterkiewicz and Burns Singer
Potok płynie doliną,
Nad potokiem jawory,
Tam ja z tobą, Justyno,
Słodkie pędził wieczory.Noc się krótka zdawała,
Żegnamy się z świtaniem,
Miłość sen nam zabrała,
Miłość żyje niespaniem.Nikt nie widział, nie szydził,
Niebo świadek jedyny!
Jam się nieba nie wstydził,
Miłość była bez winy.Raz się chmura zebrała,
Piorun skruszył dębinę;
Tyś mię drżąca ściskała
Mówiąc: “Sama nie zginę.”Oto przy tym strumieniu,
Oto przy tej jabłoni,
Wieleż razy w pragnieniu
Wodę piłem z jej dłoni?Dziś, kiedy nas w swym gniewie
Los rozdzielił opaczny,
Znaki nasze po drzewie
Popsuł pasterz niebaczny.I ślady się zmazały!
Las zarasta krzewiną!
Potok, drzewa zostały;
Ciebie nie masz, Justyno!
Promised me, I will not die, before
I write write the last verse.
I am therefore reluctant to write
Words coming to me with more and more difficulty.
But she is stronger than me.
Same pen in my hand leading,
Rhythm in my ear singing its meter,
Rhyme a snare attracted by my weakness.
I must finish the verse, and I do not know
Is this
not the last.
Translated by Dcn. Jim
Przyrzekła mi, że nie umrę, zanim
Nie napiszę ostatniego wiersza.
To dlatego ociągam się z pisaniem
I coraz mi trudniej przychodzi.
Ale Ona ode mnie silniejsza.
Sama piórem w moim ręku wodzi,
Rytm do ucha skanduje mi śpiewem,
Rymem nagłym wabi do swej matni.
Muszę wiersza dokończyć, a nie wiem
Czy to już
nie ten ostatni.
Long did I look into the dark eyes of my brother,
Into eyes well-known, although the face was not,
As he spoke, as he cautiously weighed out each word
In Leningrad, on somber Marat Street.Michał, Aunt Fanny’s, Uncle Ludwik’s son,
Names which awake the wistful taste of childhood,
Sternly and gravely concludes the discussion.
And yet he’s my cousin. A very close relation.Magnitogorsk and Urals. With us or against.
Stalin, the Party, vast, incessant toil.
The Five-Year Plan. As children five years old
We used to exchange letters. Michał looks ill.Light of young eyes, yet hair untimely gray.
Calm, but intent, faithful in what you do,
You serve and want to serve your country well
And you say: ‘Good night, prince’ —“ ‘Good night, Horatio.’
Translation by Czesław Miłlosz
Długo patrzałem w ciemne oczy mego brata,
W oczy znajome, choć na obcej twarzy,
Gdy mówił, gdy ostrożnie każde słowo ważył.
W Leningradzie na smutnej ulicy Marata.Michał, syn cioci Fanny i stryja Ludwika,
Imiona, które budzą smak dzieciństwa rzewny,
Surowo i poważnie dyskusję zamyka.
To przecież brat stryjeczny. Bardzo bliski krewny.Magnitogorsk i Ural. Z nami albo przeciw.
Stalin i partia. Ciągły trud, niezmierny.
Plan pięcioletni. Jako pięcioletnie dzieci
Pisywaliśmy listy. Michał jest mizerny.Blask młodych oczu przeczy przedwczesnej siwiźnie.
Spokojny, lecz namiętny i wierny swej pracy,
Służysz i pragniesz wiernie służyć swej ojczyźnie,
Mowisz: ,,Dobranoc, książę” – ,,Dobranoc, Horacy”.
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New blog post: Daily Digest for August 11th http://bit.ly/YsOzR [#]
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As soon as I open my eyes, I see you.
Italy, Greece and Egypt – all in vain.
The whole world is not ashamed to admit —
Beautiful are your eyes, your mouth, your dark hair.Sometimes, drifting intoxicated by the blue,
My eye wanders across the sweet sea and the sky,
I forget everything and close them,
And when I close my eyes – I see you again.
Translation by Dcn. Jim
Kiedy tylko otworzę oczy, to Cię widzę.
Włochy, Grecja i Egipt — to wszystko daremne.
Całemu światu dzisiaj przyznać się nie wstydzę —
Piękniejsze są Twe oczy, usta, włosy ciemne.Czasami, upojony błękitem przeźroczy,
Błądząc okiem po morzu słodkim i po niebie,
Zapominam o wszystkim i zamykam oczy,
A kiedy zamknę oczy — znowu widzę Ciebie.
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New blog post: Daily Digest for August 10th http://bit.ly/N7TGw [#]
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Newlyweds with white flowers
came out of the church and caught a cab, their ears
still full of the organ’s benediction
Here though there’s noise and exhaust fumes
Women wrapped in sheepskins boots to their knees
teased hair beneath their scarves
broad-hipped wrinkled not from age
but from failed lives Housewives used
to scolding in lines scrounging for the food
that dark kitchens and tables are waiting for
And if they don’t bring home meat the man gets mad
who’s borne for hours the factory’s brunt the rumble
of the conveyor belt the emptiness
after the night shift when the day begins
and sleep seeps through shaded windows into bed
Tomorrow is today and the way between days is narrow
So they’ve learned how to complain in voices sharp as razors
to elbow into lines to borrow kids for extra portions.
Fertile at least Their hips remember the births
of boys grown tall and thin who snicker at the queuers
even at those who are mothers of life
They’ll wait in this crush until the doors swing open
wide as a window on a sunny day.
Translated by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh
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Listened to 5 songs.
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New blog post: August 7 – Panna XII by Jan Kochanowski http://bit.ly/1sxtq [#]
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New blog post: August 6 – Panna IV by Jan Kochanowski http://bit.ly/gYsfc [#]
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New blog post: August 8 – An Excerpt from: Wiesław, a Krakowian idyll in five acts by Kazimierz Brodziński http://bit.ly/TWRff [#]
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New blog post: August 9 – Ode XVIII – To a Rose by Maciej Kazimierz Sarbiewski http://bit.ly/Sb7k6 [#]
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Intended to be used in the garlands for decorating the head of the Virgin Mary
Siderum sacros imitata vultis. – Lib. iv. Ode 18.
Rose of the morning, in thy glowing beauty
Bright as the stars, and delicate and lovely,
Lift up thy head above thy earthly dwelling,
Daughter of heaven!Wake! for the watery clouds are all dispersing;
Zephyr invites thee, —” frosts and snows of winter
All are departed, and Favonian breezes
Welcome thee smiling.Rise in thy beauty, —” Wilt thou form a garland
Round the fair brow of some beloved maiden?
Pure though she be, unhallow’d temple never,
Flow’ret! shall wear thee.Thou shouldst be wreath’d in coronal immortal, —”
Thou shouldst be flung upon a shrine eternal, —”
Thou shouldst be twined among the golden ringlets
Of the pure Virgin.
Translation from Wybór Poezyi Polskiey — Specimens of the Polish Poets Poets with Notes and Observations on the Literature of Poland by Sir John Bowring.
Quotannis Kalendis Juniï D. Virginis caput coronaturus.
Siderum ſacros imitata vultus
Quid lates dudum, roſa? delicatum
Effet e terris caput, o tepentis
Filia cæli.
Jam tibi nubes fugiunt aquoſæ,
Quas fugant albis Zephyri quadrigis:
Jam tibi mulcet Boream jocantis
Aura Favoni.
Surge: qui natam deceant capilli,
Mitte ſcitari: nihil heu profanæ
Debeas fronti, nimium ſeveri
Stemma pudoris.
Parce plebeios redimire crines.
Te decent aræ: tibi colligenda
Virginis latè coma per ſequaces
Fluƈtuat auras.