POWRÓT HIOBA	JOB'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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