In this set of poems translated by The Femina Hodierna Collective, Sławek invites the reader on a journey to the origins, to the pond, to the roots (of a tree) and engages us in an intimate conversation with ourselves, to which nature is the only witness.

Walking When I walk, my shoes squeak in painI pretend it’s a blessingWalking will take my health to voidSo I pretend not hearing the pain..

Then Grandpa walked in. Tall—he just cleared the lintel—and smiling, undoubtedly well over seventy, but quite strong. He was holding a prickly plaid lap blanket...

Resigned Songfor A.M.C Come, my sweet friend:on the firm white roaduntil the whole valley turns blue.Come: it’s so sweet to walknear you, even if you..

Translator’s Note I was drawn to Grzegorz Wróblewski’s poems some years ago while reading an anthology of contemporary Polish poetry. This anthology had all the..

Translator’s Note: Lőrinc Szabó is one of the giants of the Hungarian literary scene of the mid-20th century. He often invoked his children Klara and..

a lineis only asentence that stops then anotherlife rhymeswith lifewe are all living rhymeswho look tofinish their sentencesthere is noend ofspeakingmaybe without knowing itwe are..

Por qué pedir más luz vedada altura,si es seguro otro duelo bajo el dueloy fatigar las alas con el vueloo desgarrarse en la opulenta hondura?..

When I was seventeen we moved into a three room apartment, in what my mother called “a better neighborhood.” The monthly rent was twenty kroner..