Monday, August 1, 2016

IZABELA ZUBKO

IZABELA ZUBKO


A MOTH
the darkness is fleeing
from the lamp on the dresser
and me – the night butterfly
I make my way towards the light
warmed with the heat
I melt down my anger
and decipher with love
your portrait on the wall
painted with the shadow
TRANSLATED BY: ANNA MARIA MAZUR







SHE
You don't remember if she has worn
a lace blouse
or a woollen sweater
her hair covered her body
so tight
When you have been closing door
of the another ramble
she has welcomed you with her nakedness
sprinkled with the salt of her eyes
Only you and Marta
know the secret
of every return


TRANSLATED BY: ANNA MARIA MAZUR










THE POSTSCRIPT
I touch pages
impermanent like wind.
I taste their scent
in the alleys of memories.
I kiss the signature
under the horizon of thoughts.
I read with tenderness
an unwritten letter.
The postscript
has torn us apart
and bound us forever.

TRANSLATED BY: ANNA MARIA MAZUR
IZABELA ZUBKO
POLAND

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