No. 8-9


Aleksander Wat  

Translated from the Polish by Ryszard Reisner  


The Four Walls of My Pain    

The four walls of my pain
have no window no door.
I only hear — the guard 
pacing out there and back.

His heavy faceless steps
mark empty survival.
Is it night still or now dawn?
Darkness has become my four walls.

Why does he pace there and back?
How can death’s shadow find me,
when my cell of pain
has no window no door?

Out there life no doubt is a blur 
from the blazing bush.
Here the guard paces, there 
and back — a shadow without face.

Here There is No Space No Will

Here there is no space no will
only not-time, non-will 
not-nothing, non-form - mirage and stone—
anti-matter of the brainwashed hollow.

Here there is only taughtology 
never and always and non-as ever.
Nothing is borne, nothing now wastes.
Nothing is to be, nothing is now as is.

Here neither am I not, nor not-I
never will hope be borne—
no motion is there no breath
no escape, there is no help

here there is only non-wish, non-sense
and only non-speak and non-end.
No verdict. There are no charges.
The eye sees not. The hand does not jail.



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with the authors.


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