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 punk rock poets of Poland and strayed from more traditional figures like Miłosz and Szymborska and were more like the founder of Polish Anti-Poetry, Tadeusz Różewicz. The first poem of his I read was this: 

SPRING

plan A
                    to hang myself
plan B
                    to hang myself
plan C
             to weather the winter
                           and in spring
                                       to hang myself 

I was hooked.

Grzegorz Wróblewski is the author of several books of poetry, drama, as well as flash and longer fictions. In addition to his various publications Wróblewski’s paintings have been shown throughout Europe. 

He was born in Gdańsk and grew up in Warsaw. He has lived in Copenhagen since 1985. 

English translations of his work include Our Flying Objects (trans. Joel Leonard Katz, Rod Mengham, Malcolm Sinclair, Adam Zdrodowski, Equipage, 2007), A Marzipan Factory (trans. Adam Zdrodowski, Otoliths, 2010), Kopenhaga (trans. Piotr Gwiazda, Zephyr Press, 2013), Let’s Go Back to the Mainland (trans. Agnieszka Pokojska, Červená Barva Press, 2014), and Zero Visibility (trans. Piotr Gwiazda, Phoneme Media, 2017). 

His translated poetry has also been anthologized in Carnivorous Boy, Carnivorous Bird: Poetry from Poland. Selected ed. Marcin Baran. Eds. Anna Skucinska and Elżbieta Wócik-Leese, Zephyr Press, 2004). 

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A HAPPENING

Mr Z. stood in the humming breeze. Sitting, of course, was viewed unfavorably by government authorities. There was a possibility to eventually lie down on a bench, but that wasn’t widely accepted either. Standing he had the possibility of potential. After all, reality was happening now and to a specific purpose.

ZDARZENIE

Pan Zy stanął na brzęczącym powietrzu. Siedzenie było bowiem niemile widziane przez czynniki rządzące. Można się było ewentualnie położyć na ławce, ale to także nie było powszechnie zbyt akceptowane. Stojąc miał z kolei potencjał. Rzeczywistość zmierzała przecież i tak do określonego celu.

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THE ONE TRUTH

Mr. Z opened the door to a preacher of the One Truth: the man in a hat looked around the room.
“Things aren’t going well for us…” We have to immediately convert. Afterall, life is a bit short, isn’t it? I suggest this tome, which will explain everything.
“And what is this text about?” Mr. Z asked.
“That I can’t explain so easily. First you have to buy it! So…have you decided?”
Mr. Z didn’t have exactly enough money to buy it which led to the man in the hat to start furiously shaking his limbs.
“And in this exact prosaic way we lose our chance at virgins in paradise…” he nervously swallowed his spit and wiped his forehead dry with Mr. Z’s bedsheets. After that he slammed the door and Mr. Z was left standing in his long underwear.

PRAWDA

Pan Zy otworzył drzwi głosicielowi Jedynej Prawdy. Mężczyzna w kapeluszu rozejrzał się
po pokoju.
– Coś słabo nam się wiedzie… Trzeba się więc szybko nawrócić. Życie jest bowiem zbyt 
krótkie. Proponuję księgę, która wszystko wyjaśni.
– A o czym jest księga? – zapytał Pan Zy.
– Tego nie da się tak prosto wytłumaczyć. Wpierw trzeba ją kupić. Czyli… decydujemy się?
Pan Zy nie miał jednak wystarczającej kwoty, co spowodowało, że mężczyźnie w kapeluszu zaczęły z miejsca dygotać kończyny.
– I w ten właśnie prozaiczny sposób tracimy szansę na dziewice w raju… – przełknął nerwowo ślinę i wytarł czoło o suszącą się pościel Pana Zy. Następnie trzasnął drzwiami. Pan Zy pozostał w kalesonach.

***

Translator’s Bio:

Peter Buzyński recently completed a PhD in creative writing at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He holds a BA from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, an MFA in poetry from The New School, and an MA in Polish literature from Columbia University. He works as the book center manager at Woodland Pattern Book Center in Milwaukee. Burzyński is the translator of Martyna Buliżańska’s This Is My Earth (New American Press, 2019).

In between his studies, he has worked as a chef in New York City and Milwaukee. His poetry has appeared in jubilat, The Best American Poetry Blog, Thin Air, Prick of the Spindle, Thrush Poetry Review, MAYDAY, Your Impossible Voice, RHINO, and Forklift Ohio, among others. He is the son of immigrants who call him on the phone every day.

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Photo by Artur Andrzej