Category Archives: Zbigniew Herbert

Poem – A RussianTale

The star our little father had grown old, very old. Now he could not even strangle a dove with his own hands. Sitting on his throne he was golden and frigid. Only his beard grew, down to the floor and … Continue reading

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Poem – Objects

Inanimate objects are always correct and cannot, unfortunately, be reproached with anything. I have never observed a chair shift from one foot to another, or a bed rear on its hind legs. And tables, even when they are tired, will … Continue reading

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Poem – Our Fear

Our fear does not wear a night shirt does not have owl’s eyes does not lift a casket lid does not extinguish a candle does not have a dead man’s face either our fear is a scrap of paper found … Continue reading

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Poem – An Answer

This will be a night in deep snow which has the power to muffle steps in deep shadow transforming bodies to two puddles of darkness we lie holding our breath and even the slightest whisper of thought if we are … Continue reading

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Poem – In A City

In an eastern city where I won’t return there is a winged stone light and huge lightning strikes this winged stone I close my eyes to remember in my city where I won’t return there is heavy and nourishing water … Continue reading

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Poem – Pebble

The pebble is a perfect creature equal to itself mindful of its limits filled exactly with a pebbly meaning with a scent that does not remind one of anything does not frighten anything away does not arouse desire its ardour … Continue reading

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Poem – Home

A home above the year’s seasons home of children animals and apples a square of empty space under an absent star home was the telescope of childhood the skin of emotion a sister’s cheek branch of a tree the cheek … Continue reading

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