POWRÓT HIOBAJOB'S RETURN
Anna Kamieska - (Polish)trans. Tomasz P.Krzeszowski & Desmond Graham
Nie umar Hiob
nie rzuci si pod pocig
nie zdech za drutami
nie wywia go komin
rozpacz nie dobia
dwign si ze wszystkiego
z ndzy brudu
wierzbu samotnoci

Ile bardziej prawdziwy byby Hiob unmary
jeszcze po mierci Bogu bólu piciami grocy
Lecz Hiob ocala
obmy ciao z krwi potu wrzodów
i leg we wasnym odzyskanym domu
Biegli ju nowi przyjaciele
Nowa ona now mioci chuchaa mu w usta
nowe dzieci rosy z mikkimi wosami
by Hiob kad na ich gowach rce
ryczay nowe woy owce osy
tuky nowymi powrozami w stajniach
klkay na somie

Lecz Hiob szczliwy nie mia siy by szczliwy
ba si e wtórym szczciem zdradza szczcie
ba si e wtórym yciem zdradza ycie
Nie lepiej by ci byo Hiobie
gni w utraconym raju z umarymi
ni teraz czeka na ich nocne nawiedziny
we snach przychodz zazdroszcz ci ycia
Nie lepiej byo szczliwy Hiobie
zosta ochapem jak jeste ochapem
wrzody z twych doni i twarzy obmyte
w gb si przeary do serca wtroby

Umrzesz Hiobie
Nie lepiej ci byo umiera
z innymi w jednym bólu i aobi
ni teraz z szczcia nowego odchodzi
Wród nowych ludzi zbdny jak wyrzut sumienia
w ciemnoci chodzisz ciemnoci owini ty
ból przecierpiae przecicierp teraz szczcie

A Hiob szepta uparcie Panie Panie
Job didn't die
didn't throw himself under a train
wasn't slaughtered behind wire
wasn't blown through the chimney
despair didn't kill him
he rose from everything
poverty filth
scabies loneliness

How much more real a dead Job would be
even after death threatening the God of pain with fists
But Job survived
washed from his body blood sweat ulcers
and lay down in his own regained home
New friends already hastened
new wife blowing new love into his mouth
new children grew with silken hair
so Job could lay his hands on their heads
new oxen sheep asses bellowed
banged with new ropes in stables
knelt down on straw


But the happy Job was too weak to be happy
lest with his second happiness he betrays happiness
lest with his new life he betrays life
Wouldn't it be better for you Job
to rot in the lost paradise with the dead
than now to wait for their nightly call
in dreams they enter envy your life
Wouldn't it be better for you Job
to become carrion as carrion you are
ulcers washed off your hands your face
have bitten deep in heart and liver


You shall die Job
Wouldn't it be better to have died
with others in one pain and mourning
than now to leave new happiness
Among new people redundant like a prick of conscience you walk in darkness in darkness wrapped
you've suffered through pain now suffer through happiness

And Job stubbornly whispered Lord Lord

Copyright © Estate of Anna Kamieska 1960 - 1984; Trans. Copyright © Tomasz P.Krzeszowski & Desmond Graham 1994 - publ. Flambard Press


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