knife in the camp cutting bread dividing it up saving every crumb he did not peel potatoes (but did not throw away peelings
as they could save someone from starvation)  years passed we count up together we are a hundred and sixty years old  the 20th century is over . . .  the Professor lives alone works does not sleep listens to music I came to UstroÅ from Radomsko from memory from the past  I came to UstroÅ in July 2000 from WrocÅaw and Kraków via Wadowice I wanted to see the hometown of the poet JawieÅ I was moved to see his hills his clouds his family home the school the modest church
Dawn Day and Night with a Red Rose you gave me a rose red almost black inside autumnal  it stands out sharply in the empty white room as if carved with a lancet by Doctor Gottfried Benn  at night the rose describes its shape and weight in fragrance  it rouses me with its thorns  cast from sleep to a waking that is still tremulous fluid  I see it
basking in the sun unfolding predatory  in its vicinity it tolerates neither nightingales nor poetry  Hafis umdichtend hat Goethe gedichtet âunmöglich scheint immer die Rose unbegreiflich die Nachtigallâ  with my eyes I touched the compact places between the petals  the next day at dawn I took the rose into the other room  at last I could get down to my poem  in the presence of the rose it had been fading away before my eyes
secure now it took on color perked up  Iâd realized that poetry is jealous of the rose the rose jealous of poetry  after a few hours with the muse I opened the door  I saw a black rose gazing at itself in the mirror  it had lost none of its dignity or significance  I took from the rose its reflection in the mirror and turned it into words  and in this way I completed the deed  [2001]
gateway Lasciate ogni speranza Voi châentrate  all hope abandon ye who enter here  the inscription at the entrance to hell in Danteâs Divine Comedy  take heart!  beyond that gateway there is no hell  hell has been dismantled by theologists and psychoanalysts  has been turned into an allegory for reasons humanitarian and educational  take heart! beyond the gateway there is more of the same
two drunken gravediggers sit by a hole theyâre drinking non-alcoholic beer snacking on sausage winking at us playing soccer with Adamâs skull beneath the cross  the hole waits for tomorrowâs deceased the stiff is on its way  take heart!  here we will wait for the final judgment  the pit fills with water cigarette butts float there  take heart!  beyond the gateway there will be no history no goodness no poetry  and what will there be stranger?
there will be stones  stone upon stone upon stone a stone and on that stone another stone  [2000]
the saved and the condemned cheeks flushed lap up whatâs left of life  the temperature rises and everything whirls in a dance of death um die dunklen Stellen der Frau  the ghost ship runs aground
the mystery of the poem once somewhere long ago I read a poem by Eminowicz whose first name I subsequently forgot  this was before the war  then  for half a century I never encountered his poetry  he would come to mind every few years then return to