Jacket 19 — October 2002   |   # 19  Contents   |   Homepage   |  Catalog   |
This issue of Jacket is a collaboration with Verse magazine

Marzanna Bogumila Kielar

***

Frost ropes in the ditch: nothing could break through,
slip through (though maybe underground, in water
full of bare sky); the brook swelled,
the field half froze, and sharp wind now blasts dust
from furrows vanished somewhere under the ice.
Day — a bundle of gossamer
planted on the sky; a colonized,
subjugated life. Bled dry by the cold, as light
as the rind of lichen on the stones; to live, whistles
the wind,
to live, otherwise than the leaves. . .and may death be
like snow that keeps the earth
from freezing over entirely

Translated from the Polish by W. Martin

Jacket 19 — October 2002  Contents page
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