Love And Passion
Love and
passion, they have a common source:
a longing for
closeness
and the
tenderness that binds to that which is loved.
Because if you
love, you crave tenderness,
but also, that
which is close to you hugs you.
Hence for love's
sake you transform stones into statues
- You transform
stones.
You pick flowers
in the meadow
- You arrange
them in bouquets to bring joy,
for your
beloved.
If love and
passion create harmony,
Art is born.
Feelings are the
content.
Passion is the
form.
For he who loves
and has talent,
puts a beautiful
face on everything.
Even when
cooking dinner,
harmoniously
combines contents, colours and tastes.
And beauty - as
Norwid wrote:
"the shape
of love is - and that's it",
but to create it
you need work,
because that
which flows from love enriches its content.
"And hence
the greatest simple folk the poet.
And hence the
greatest simple folk a musician.
And Michael the
angel, who wrought alone in marble".
Chopin, longing
for his homeland
enclosed in his
works
the most
beautiful sounds of its dances,
but also of the
heroic struggle for the freedom of his homeland.
Vivaldi in love
with the music of nature
in the
"four seasons"
expressed and
recorded sounds,
which if you
hear - you feel
as if you were
walking among green fields
forests and
gardens,
as if there were
no walls,
in which the
world is enclosed.
But if one falls
in love
in his own
reflection,
gazing at his
words and deeds,
desires only his
own success,
his passion
becomes greed and envy.
Instead of
building a house - he tears it down.
Instead of
loving, he kills.
For then passion
becomes gambling
Being happy when
one wins .
When you lose -
you go into debt
and sink to the bottom.
In liquor or in
revenge he seeks consolation.
Obedience
To Ali the Spouse
You entered the
world of my childhood
Of growing and
blooming.
Remain, then, in
the green of the days that pass,
if only for a
brief moment,
because that
meeting with you,
did not allow to
offer
a four-leaf
clover..,
but from that
meeting,
I learned your
hands
and eyes telling
the world
about the
secrets of the soul,
but how much
more
I have not yet
discovered.
I am therefore a
naive Greek
sage at the gates of Babylon,
although
I have not lost
you in wandering.
I have brought
you from the mountains to the valleys
into green
meadows and the shadows of gardens.
I gave the
fragrance of violets
the glow of red
roses....
You are - right
next door -
So I miss the
sparkle of your eyes,
a word and a
gesture,
for a long
conversation
on a day full of
sunshine,
For, you are a
care in me, a multicoloured silence.
You are the
summer of wonders that I delight in.
You are the completion
of what is incomplete.
Sometimes a
longing, but always an inspiration.
And you have
become a rose in my wild garden
For you the
daisies and buttercups bloomed.
For you the
spreading carpet
of green lasts,
For in Thee hid
a bright ray of sunshine,
of my wonder at
your beauty,
in which you can
warm yourself
- Until the
frosty chill comes.
You are a rose
in my garden
whose
unnecessary straw ladle
on a long and
starry November night
for I will warm
you with my kisses
and there is sun
and shade in me.
Welcome
Today the valley
has opened its gates.
The sun
illuminates the beech temple.
The crests of
the palms have combed the grasses.
In the valley -
a lover waits for his beloved.
He waits, he
needs to wait,
At home with a
guitar and a pen
And the sky
above him as mountains.
And mountains in
the distance like clouds.
The lion's
August sun follows the trail.
The crickets
tune their gear to play together.
It seems that
joy soars with the falcon,
That this
waiting had a doubled sense.
He waits, he needs
to wait,
To look deeper
into sparkling eyes;
to embrace the
longing one;
to lead him
along a path into a landscape of charms.
The Bieszczady
gladiolus has unfolded its flowers.
The cornflowers
of Kotczi have blushed.
Mountain gentian
is gathering in bouquets.
A floral meadow
in the Bieszczady welcomes you.
It thirsts, it
thirsts,
like a glass of
water or like a cup of milk,
the arrival of a
kind one that keeps delaying
and fills the
moment of her arrival with longing.
It comes at last
with crickets playing,
a flowery
meadow, the scents of herbs.
Her pleasant
figure appears in the distance,
Lights up the
emptiness with sparks of charm.
Welcome, welcome
we need.
Being from dusk
to pale morning.
Let hand meet
hand by chance
Let word and word
weave rhyming.
Joy, joy gives
arms
You are among
your own as you have never been your own
Nothing that the
weariness of the road has ceased
When birds
whisper words that rhyme.
©Copyright by Marian Dziwisz
MARIAN DZIWISZ
MARIAN DZIWISZ b. 1943 in the
village of Michałowice near Kraków. He graduated from the Primary School in
Wola Zachariaszowska; Little Theological Seminary of the XX Missionaries in
Krakow (1961). He completed his Polish studies at the Pedagogical University in
Krakow (1966, currently the Pedagogical University) and a PhD in philosophy in
the field of philosophy (1980). He was the editor and secretary of the
editorial board of: socio-cultural monthly magazines: "ZDANIE";
"LITERARY AND ARTISTIC WRITING" and "FORMUM OF THOUGHT
FREE" in Krakow; assistant professor at the Institute of Teacher Education
of ODN in Krakow; a Polish language teacher in high schools and technical
schools; lecturer of philosophy at Krakow universities. He debuted with poems
in Nowa Wieś (1978). He published his poems, among others in the pages of:
"Zdania", "Okolic", "Pisma Literacko-Artystyczny"
until 1990. His output includes volumes of poetry, among others "Ergo
sum" 2007, "Madonna" 2011, "Categorical Imperative"
2014 [available at the Jagiellonian Library], in the years 2015 - 2017 three
volumes of the story "Semper in altum - Always up" at LSW. He has
published: a series of articles in scientific and socio-cultural journals.
Since 2020, at the invitation of Thadddeus Hutyra, Konrad Stawiarski
and Marija Najhefer, Popov has been publishing his poems and essays on the
websites of national and international Poetry Groups.
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