December 31, 1999
Ewa Lipska


All the poets will write about it.
Even the illiterate ones.
There will be rumors that it is the last.
That after this, comes only metal-plated fear.
A compass drawing square.

But the night won't be childless.
Taking by surprise the doubting suicides
and gullible priests,
the New Year's infant
will scream at midnight.

The sudden hawk of a wind
will bend the willow.
The compass will indicate
there is no other choice.
The usual drill of the hours.

Your birthday. Despite everything.
A compass drawing a square.


--tr. Robin Davidson and Ewa Elzbieta Nowakowska, The New Century (Northwestern)

Here's a link: http://poland.poetryinternationalweb.org/piw_cms/cms/cms_module/index.php?obj_id=423
http://joellebiele.com/


Poets, even illiterate poets,
will write, even rumors.
After this, metal-plated fear.
A compass draws a square.

The night won't be childless:
taking by surprise suicides
and gullible priests,
the New Year's infant screams
after midnight.

The sudden wind bends the willow;
compass indicates no choice but the drill of hours.

Your birthday. Despite everything.
A compass drawing a square.