The best Polish poem of recent years.
Author unknown.
But certainly not poet A,
poet B, poet S.
The text is densely written
from right to left
and left to right
and from top to bottom
and bottom to top
and crosswise
and in tiny veinlets
up to the beautifully serrated edges.
The customs agent didn’t know the suspect code.
He just checked for letters,
seized books,
tossed photos,
shredded diplomas.
The best Polish poem of recent years ended up abroad.
And it can now be read against the light
in Vienna
in Toronto
in Haifa
in Amsterdam.
As with all true poetry –
it’s difficult to translate
into the leaflet of a different birch
from a different cemetery.
Translated by Clare Cavanagh