Senza flash

Written in Polish by Adam Zagajewski

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Senza flash! „Bez fleszu!”
(instrukcja często słyszana we włoskich galeriach)

Bez płomienia, bez nocy bezsennych, bez żaru,
bez łez, bez wielkiej namiętności, bez przekonania,
tak będziemy żyli; senza flash.

Spokojnie i miarowo, posłusznie i sennie,
dłonie poplamione czarną farbą gazet codziennych,
twarze tłuste od kremu; senza flash.

Uśmiechnięci turyści w bardzo czystych koszulach,
Herr Lange i Miss Fee oraz Monsieur et Madame Rien
wejdą do muzeum; senza flash.

Staną przed obrazem Piero della Francesca, na którym
Chrystus, prawie obłąkany, wynurza się z grobu,
zmartwychwstały, wolny; senza flash.

I może wtedy stanie się coś nieprzewidzianego:
poruszy się serce, ukryte pod gładką bawełną,
zapadnie cisza, błyśnie flesz.

 

Published April 3, 2021
From Adam Zagajewski, Wiersze wybrane, Wydawnictwo a5, Kraków 2010
© Adam Zagajewski 2010

Senza Flash

Written in Polish by Adam Zagajewski


Translated into English by Clare Cavanagh

Senza flash!: “No flash!”
(order often heard in Italian galleries)

No flame, no sleepless nights, no heat,
no tears, no mighty passions, no convictions,
and so we live on; senza flash.

Slow and steady, docile, drowsy,
hands stained black from daily papers,
faces thick with cream; senza flash.

Tourists smiling in their spotless shirts,
Herr Lange and Miss Fee, Monsieur, Madame Rien
enter the museum; senza flash.

And stand before a Piero della Francesca where
Christ, nearly mad, emerges from the tomb,
resurrected, free; senza flash.

And something unforseen may happen then:
hidden in smooth cotton, the heart stirs,
silence falls, a sudden flash.

 

Published April 3, 2021
From Adam Zagajewski, Without End: New and Selected Poems, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, New York 2002
Copyright © Adam Zagajewski 2002
Translation copyright © Farrar, Straus and Giroux 2002

Senza flash

Written in Polish by Adam Zagajewski


Translated into Italian by Paola Malavasi

(un divieto spesso incontrato nei musei italiani)

Senza fiamma, senza notti insonni, senza ardore,
senza lacrime, senza una forte passione, senza convinzione,
così continueremo a vivere; senza flash.

Tranquilli e calmi, docili, assonnati,
le mani macchiate dall’inchiostro dei quotidiani,
i volti unti di crema; senza flash.

I turisti sorridono nelle loro camicie linde,
Herr Lange e Miss Fee, Monsieur, Madame Rien
entrano nel museo; senza flash.

E stanno davanti a un Piero della Francesca dove
Cristo, quasi folle, esce dalla tomba,
risorto, libero; senza flash.

E forse allora accadrà qualcosa di imprevisto:
si scuote il cuore, nascosto sotto il cotone liscio,
cala il silenzio, scatta il flash.

 

Published April 3, 2021
From “Poesia”, Anno XVII, Maggio 2004, N. 183, Crocetti Editore
© Paola Malavasi 2004


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