IZABELA ZUBKO
A MOTH
the darkness is fleeing
from the lamp on the dresser
from the lamp on the dresser
and me – the night
butterfly
I make my way towards the light
I make my way towards the light
warmed with the heat
I melt down my anger
I melt down my anger
and decipher with love
your portrait on the wall
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
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
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
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.
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.
IZABELA ZUBKO
has torn us apart
and bound us forever.
TRANSLATED
BY: ANNA MARIA MAZUR
POLAND
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