GDY ROZUM ŚPI BUDZI SIĘ SZTUKA When mind sleeps art wakes up* |
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Gdy rozum śpi budzi się sztuka
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When mind sleeps art wakes upDifficult to eliminate like a weedFollowing the man’s track. We’ll drink it in ecstasy Which can be given by vodka in burdock scrub.
Students of Doctor Faustus Men of science Frankenstein, Eichmann, Hyde Said: Energy is the mass multiplied by speed multiplied by speed Soul is a God multiplied by matter God is a matter divided by soul. In died towns of great village Many human bones have been thrown In order to invent die of Rubicon. Right hands have been broken into left And we have been generated. |
Stada błądzą po granicy czasu |
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Flocks of men wander on the time’s border As millennium is born We must rescue it By stir of finger.
The first millennium Jesus entered alone Christians entered the second. The third will be entered by Black Indians of Eurasia. They’ll draw on Babel Tower They’ll leave their roots in the ground That hermeneutic could bite them
Millennium is between legs Every day is its challenge. On its threshold We’ll wipe our feet From mud of history. We do our art. By strip of finger.
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Ptaki nie odlatują na południe,
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Birds do not fly southwards Sitting on their own backs. Everyone thinks for himself Everyone creates for You Everyone will be in Heaven.
We’ll build pyramids from potatoes Reproduce graphics in a post office Make up lips Sculpture in mud And write on fence.
We won’t tell about her Who once upon a time We’ll have her in our hands Hidden and obvious That nobody will take her off us. |
A jeżeli ją wezmą handlarze żywym towarem, |
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But if our love is taken by trader Of human beings It will be born in different places Continually Difficult to eliminate like a weed Following the man’s track. We’ll drink it in ecstasy Which can be given by vodka in burdock scrub.
And there won’t be people Divided for those who above And for those who below. For those who under ice And for those who under fingers. For those who are after And who are before.
Freedom of Imagination - it is sensitivity of moss.
We’ll do our art. by strip of finger And we smile Because the shape is born from shape of mouth When we say that what we say Or from pure line When we do not say.
* translated Patrycja Szyszko |