ALICJA KUBERSKA
SMALL TEMPTATIONS
The lures appear out of nowhere and weigh next to
nothing.
Light and airy - they sneak quietly
through life,
They are translucent, barely
visible and noticeably weak.
They do not have a specific gravity
of serious sins.
Quickly, in ad- hoc mode, they justify the offenses.
They do not leave the marks of their stay in memory
and conscience.
They abandon responsibilities,
forget the dates on the calendar
They sit comfortably in a chair
and fly to the blue realm of dreams,
where the aromas of coffee are entangled in the
whiff of the cheesecake or apple pie.
No regard for calories ,
they add cream and delicacies to
the ice- cream,
They melt in the mouth the
sweetness of stuffed chocolates,
In the evening they serve a glass
of champagne with strawberries.
On the sunny and warm days they
invite one to walk to the park
to buy from a florist the bouquets of violets
with their last few pennies.
The blameworthy and reckless, they
do not worry about finances.
Small enticements and small fibs
know each other vey well.
They together discount the
extraordinary beautiful handbags, dresses and shoes.
Sometimes they occasionally
purchase the colorful
scarves and the beads.
Innocent sins are full of
irresistible charm and grace,
And as water droplets falling on
stone systematically,
They crush the monolith of serious
standards and steadfast rules.
THE DRAWER WITH MEMORIES
In the modern world,
full of rush and brilliant
inventions,
I am a living relic of a bygone
age.
I keep some strange treasures
and a sheaf of yellowed letters
inside a sentimental drawer.
I impart colours to the faded
memories
and I allow the past moments to
return.
Just for me
the lilacs bloom again in a
long-gone garden.
The dried four-leaf clover
foretells good luck.
Someone, who is no more, worries
about my health.
Love spells, from many years ago,
return to me
and the withered petals of red
roses smell intense.
From the position of an omniscient
being
I read the sentences from the old
correspondence.
I carefully study the art of life
and gain respect for these by-gone
events.
TREE AND I
with my body, I am near to the
roots
with my thoughts, I reach the
longest branches
I soar towards the sun
I caress the green canopy
the tree records years in its rings
warm-cold, dry-wet
and I record emotions on a piece of
paper
sadness-joy, love-loneliness
we are dear to each other
often, I embrace its trunk
maybe it will remember the touch of
my hands
rustle with memories.
ALICJA KUBERSKA
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