THE MYSTERY OF THE POEM
by Tadeusz Różewicz
once somewhere
long ago
I read a poem
by Eminowicz
whose first name
I subsequently forgot
this was before the war
then
for half a century
I never encountered
his poetry
he would come to mind
every few years
then return to oblivion
Chess?
yes I read the poem
in “Pion” magazine
Chess? not Chess
Chess
I think it was Chess the poem
rattled about in my head
like a death-watch beetle
(that was all I needed!)
two years ago
I found myself in Kraków
with Czesław Miłosz
in Ludwik Solski’s Dressing Room
Mrs. Renata (this was her idea)
was asking us questions
about poetry youth the occupation
and women (laughter)
the topic was our love poetry
all at once I digressed and asked
do you remember the poet Eminowicz
Miłosz did
“Eminowicz? his first name was Ludwik”
later we talked about Staff and Fik
Czechowicz Przyboś Ważyk
a year passed
I was looking through Extracts from Useful Books
and on page 207 I found a poem
by Ludwik Eminowicz “At Noon”
strange poet
strange poem neither good nor gad
the vanishing poet
lived 1880-1946
I rush headlong . . . the roiling water golden
the sky suspended from a burning frame . . .
I rush headlong
Mr. Ludwik Mr. Eminowicz
wait up
don’t hurry so
don’t run away
from us
into a fragile immortality
in some reference book
or anthology
in October 2000
I was at the Frankfurt Book Fair
(Frankfurt um Main)
eight hundred publishers
or maybe eight thousand publishers
were exhibiting a hundred thousand new titles
a million books
“the pope of German literature and criticism”
put in an appearance
five hundred poets (of both sexes)
read their poems
ja ja lesen macht schön
(schreiben mach häßlich)
but the greatest success
was Boris Yeltsin with his bestseller
and with champagne vodka and caviar
I was there too with a small volume
I drank a glass of red wineN
with Leszek Kołakowski
I read poems with Miłosz
Nike sprinting before us
suddenly Eminowicz
popped into my head
“I rush headlong . . . the roiling water golden
the sky suspended from a burning frame”
I smiled to myself
Nike running behind us
cheeks unhealthily flushed
and I was thinking about Eminowicz’s poem
in “Pion” (Chess?)
somewhere once
long long ago
I had read that poem
_______________________
[from New Poems, translated by Bill Johnston]
I really enjoyed reading this read it over & over again at least six times :)) It also reminded me of a story I read when just a wee one and it has never left me … every so often it too comes to memory in funny & strange ways connected with what Im doing or the place I am at at given point of time Really wonderful how you have been able to express this in your work here thankq i really