Free new poems by Tadeusz Rozewicz Page B

don’t get bored?
    Â 
    They get bored too . . .
because the ball isn’t round
the match is sold
the ref is bought
you’re too young
to remember
the historic goal
that Lato scored
thirty years ago
it was under Gierek
Grandma’s always talking about Gierek
and singing
“Under Gomułka we had curds and whey
Under Gierek, meat by the tray
But not a sausage in Kania’s day”
    Â 
    Who was Kanyass?
Don’t be so curious son
or you’ll end up in a barrel of
sauerkraut like those quintuplets
that have been served up for us
for months now by public or religious
or commercial or private television like some
kind of benefit or music festival
    Â 
    But soccer fans don’t get bored, Daddy!

    Â 
    Soccer fans go about in facepaint
like cannibals
with sticks knives axes
chains clubs flags
toilet paper
which was in short supply under communism
here and in the evil empire too
but don’t forget that Poland
beat Greece though it never became
the Trojan Horse of the European Championship!
    Â 
    Daddy! Is it true that there are players
who don’t respect the ball though they’re
brilliant and that the philosophy of soccer
has replaced basic theology
and that in Argentina people pray
to Saint Maradonna
    Â 
    Yes son! the light of the goalmouth
has replaced the light everlasting
    Â 
    Drink milk! it’ll make you
strong as a Tiger great as Kiepura
or as Rinaldo-Ronaldini!
or as Longinus Podbipięta!
    Â 
    I don’t want any milk!
    Â 
    Then eat your custard
and knock it
off!

    Â 
    Daddy! Then I’ll be a firefighter!
because firefighters don’t get bored!
and when they do they set fire
to forests meadows buildings
even lakes
then they put them out
and are given medals even though
the fires kill off frogs moles
earthworms
    Â 
    Drink some Polish buttermilk son
and stop pestering your father!
    Â 
    Who am I supposed to pester?
Pester your Grandma
    Â 
    Daddy, what’s a pedophile?
    Â 
    Eat your angel’s milk custard
and leave me alone
will you! Can’t you see
that I’m busy and don’t have
time to read even
one book by Mendoza
you’re an unwanted child
so shut it
    Â 
    Then why did you make me, Daddy,
and how am I supposed to shut it?

children aren’t “made”
children are summoned
to life
in unprotected intercourse
Your grandfather used to say
“Have bees, and you’ll have honey as well
Have kids, and all your house will smell”
Grandpa’s as wise as Fukuyama
    Â 
    Then why don’t you bring him home
from the hospital . . . ?!
    Â 
    (not to be continued)
    Â 
    [2004]

we’re building bridges
    many many years ago
Sister Elisabeth and I strolled
from Zgorzelec to Görlitz
and back
to visit the house of Böhme the shoemaker
to buy thread
drink a Franziskaner Weissbier
learn something about the Rosicrucians
and see a lily in bloom
    Â 
    over the bridge of reconciliation and peace
from dawn till dusk there came
unemployed Polish ants
and retired German ants
the ants were carrying
Europe’s Largest Gartenzwergen
Garden Gnomes wicker baskets
quail and ostrich eggs
clothes cabbage asparagus
beer beer beer
bier bier bier
brandy
in the crowd I encountered
mysterious individuals
who winked at me
and offered marks from the time
of Erich Honecker and Helmut Kohl

medals of Soviet heroes
Nikita’s pants pieces of the Berlin Wall
they tried to sell me knockoff Absolut
mixed with godknowswhat
by the roads highways
Lechites sat selling berries and
pfefferling mushrooms to the Germans
there were Polish plaster storks
willows wept under the burden
of Polish pears
and Chopin
was left hanging in the wind
    Â 
    there were maidens from the lands of central
and eastern Europe Bulgarians Ukrainians
Russians Poles blondes
qualifying heats for the miss
wet tee-shirt and miss world
competitions were taking place
in the nearby bushes
    Â 
    in the Mona Lisa bar woolen caps and black
tights were being pulled over heads