Aleksander Szumanski
POLISH POET FROM LEVEL
Authors Zbigniew Ringer, Jacek Trznadel, Bożena Rafalska “Lwowskie Spotkiania”, “Kurier Daily”, Chicago, 'Radio Bridge' Arizona, “Polnijne News” Johannesburg.
PATRIOTICAL, LOVEFUL, Satiric, RELIGIOUS, , REFLECTION, BALLADS, PIONIER TEXTS, LEVEL THEMATICS WRITERED STRAIGHTS
He's a Shuman lyricist. He writes love poems, practices reflective poetry, but you will find satire and perverse poems and rather a frequent mockery poem, or playing with the Polish. There is besides spiritual poesy in his work, but the Catholicism of Szumański is based on conventional Polish belief.
In this poesy there are profoundly reflective poems, steeped in lyricism, spiritualized, but at the same time it treads firmly on the ground. And this land is very frequently found in his poems. This could be the land of Polish cemeteries (and is ), as well as never forgotten by him Lviv streets, squares, monuments, visited all year.
They are not amazing in his poesy Lviv nostalgic poems, full of contemporaries, but at the same time and the joy of the ever-living atmosphere of this city, with its culture, architecture, or song, considering that as a ten-year-old student of the Lviv general school, he debuted on Radio Lviv with his own poem presented by a well-known Lviv actor.
There is besides love in Shuman's poetry, she is always warm and tender, but never sneezing.
The inspiration for this love poesy is invariably his muse – his wife Alina de Croncos Borkowska – Szumańska,herbu ",legal advisor, besides Lvivian, descended from the well-known Lviv legal household of the Borkowski coat of arms "Łabadź".
Shumans are lions of blood and bones, from generation to generation, there was an atmosphere of a truly Polish border house, where there was besides music and poetry, there were good Polish paintings on the walls, but there were besides first sculptures, specified as the “Leaven” of Konstanty Laszka. This sculpture was given to the poet’s parent on the day of his birth by her husband.
As he claims, he was raised in the spirit of Polish classical poesy with discrimination of the work of Juliusz Słowacki, which his parent taught him “from the cradle”.
Most most likely from this inspiration was the origin of the martyrdom-independence poem “Polish Photography”, which Jerzy Michał Czarnecki, president of the Krakow Branch of the Union of Polish Literature, wrote in his criticism:
"...the anxiety is always raised erstwhile the contemporary author in the last year of the 20th century wants to "give witness to the truth" about the martyrdom of Poles and Jews during the Second planet War.
Because the whole, or almost all, fact about those times has already been discovered before us, so has the right of a poet to rediscover the facts again?
Turns out he has that right. This was proved by Polish poet Aleksander Szumański in his late published book “Polish Photography”. In “Nota from the author” Szumański writes: “...the poem “Polish photographs” does not constitute an autobiography, although this can be read.
Its fragments paper the gehenna of the Polish people seen through the individual dimension."
However, this "personal dimension" here is nothing but an autobiography of interior experiences, experiences and thoughts of the creator.
All the more authentic that the events of those days affected the poet directly. His father Maurice Marian Szumański, a doctor of medicine at the University of Lviv Jan Kazimierz was shot by the Nazis together with a group of Polish intellectuals in the German – Ukrainian action "Nachtigall".
The Nachtigall Battalion is 1 of the most criminal
German-Ukrainian battalions, performer of the crime
On 4 July 1941, at the Wuletsky Hills in Lviv, where progestors of Lviv higher education institutions were moderated. Alexander Szumański's father died on the 4th list of 1941, murdered in the Lviv prison at Łąckioego Street.
And considering that Aleksander Szumański debuted with a poem
In 1941, on the pages of the Lviv radio (the poet was born in Lviv and lived there until 1941), the experience and endurance of the business period had to become his individual matter.
It is included in “Polish photographs” and besides clearly. The Hell of Poles experienced by the Western and east invaders translates into their own spiritual experiences of those events.
So in the poem there are passages about German concentration camps, fragments dedicated to Katyn. In the last part, in addition to the poetic song, Szumański in the “documentaries” rooms expressis verbis prepared by Moscow “Special Commission communication to find and analyse the circumstances of the execution of fascist invaders in the Katyn forest of Polish officers.”
"...is this a part inspired exclusively by Tuwim's work?
Yes and no.
Because here in this lyric there are tons of music known from Polish poetry, and moments and romance. The closest parallels I find here to the poesy of Juliusz Słowacki...”
“... it takes quite a few writing courage to usage specified a classical form present and to scope for specified archaic imaging...more than erstwhile it will be hard for reviewers Aleksander Szumański with his work.
Drawing full handfuls of romantics, Young Poland, the Twentieth Anniversary of the Interwar, he escapes any drawer. 1 is amazed to read these verses, due to the fact that despite the usage of the poetic works of the protoplasts, the author is indeed authentic.
On the basis of old masters he could make his own first poetics...”
"...the poems of Alexander Szumański bring warmth, cordiality, evoke emotion, and in his verses echo the old conventional recognised masters..." – reviewed Tadeusz Zygmunt Bednarski in Krakow's "Polish Journal".
Szumański comes from Lviv's intelligent household – his father, Maurycy Marian Szumański doc. murdered by the Nazis in 1941, however, after 4 July 1941, professors of Lviv universities were murdered at the Wulecki Hills in Lviv , most likely besides by the battalion "Nachtigall", he was a doctor of medicine, assistant prof. Adam Sołowisz at the Lviv University of Jan Kazimierz, parent of Polish philologist, patriotic educator, taught Polish past in Lviv' general and secondary schools.
By education, the engineer – in 1959 he graduated from the Faculty of Land Construction of the Cracow University of Technology with a diploma in civilian engineering.
Aleksander Zbigniew Szumański (born 12 November 1931 in Lviv) is simply a Polish poet, literary critic, independent publicist, correspondent of the Polish American press, associate of the Union of Polish Literaries and the Union of Piłsudczyks.
He wrote about 4000 poems partially published in 14 poetic books, including 3 poems, and 2 books of prose, translated into Japanese, among others.
More crucial titles:
“Flying Birds” Love Poem (1997) by Kraków
"American-Livian love confessions and another failings"
a love poem ( 2004 ) published in Kraków,
"Polish Photographs" by Martyrological-Independence Poem (2000) by Kraków,
‘survival’ – prose (2000) edited by Kanegasaki – cho, Isawa – weapon – Japan publisher – Kazuko Tamura, in Japanese,
“Kraków and Jews” prose (2001) by Kanegasaki – cho, Isawa –
gun – Japan – publisher – Kazuko Tamura, in Japanese,
“rows” selection (2000) ed. hotel “Elekter” Kraków,
“Wies” selection (2001) ed. hotel “Elekter” Kraków,
“rows” selection (2002) ed. hotel “Elekter” Kraków,
"Wies and Love Ballads" Part I (2003) of Chicago,
"Wies and Love Ballads" Part II (2004) of Chicago,
"Wies and Love Ballads" Part III (2004) Chicago
The works presented in this collection of the peculiar edition “Kurier Galician” were written during various periods from the 1950s – to the modern ones, but mostly with elements of the Lviv noises – balak and rustlers.
At many copyright meetings in Poland and abroad (Krakow, Lviv, Warsaw, Wroclaw, Zakopane, Tarnów, Nowy Sącz, Chicago, Los Angeles, Hollywood – where a monodrama was shot with the participation of the author, during his tour of the United States), the works are delivered by the author and prominent Polish artists, journalists and actors (Jerzy Feiner, Władysław Cybulski, Mieczysław Święcicki, Jan Adamski, Tadeusz Szybowski, Jan Guntner, Olgard Jędrzejczyk, Maria Przybylska, Ewa Stolzman – Kotlarczyk, Bruno Miecugow, Ryszard Krzyżanowski, Barbara Denys – Krzyżanowska, Adam Macedonian, Stefan Berdak, Nina Repetowska, Tadeusz Zygmunt Bednarski, Bożena Rafalska and many others).
The honors of Alexander Szumański:
– National Education Commission Medal – awarded by the Minister
National Education (2006).
– Badge Deserved for Polish Culture – given by the Minister
Culture (2000).
– Medal “In the Hołda Commandant” – awarded by the Society
Memory of the First Marshal of Poland Józef
Piłsudski.
– Symbolically through the Polish Union of erstwhile Political Prisoners
Nazi Prisoners and Concentration Camps territory
Kraków.
Aleksander Szumański is simply a global correspondent ( USA)
Polish press accredited in Poland.
He cooperates constantly with “Warsaw Newspaper” (ed, nacz, Piotr Bachurski) with “Kurier” Chicago (ed. Marek
Bober ), “Polish Voice” Toronto (ed. nacz. Wiesław
Magiera), “Galician Courier” (ed. Marcin Romer),
"Lviv Meetings" ( editor-in-chief Bożena Rafalska),
“Our Poland” (president and editor-in-chief Maria Adamus),
"Polonian News" — Johannesburg (in chief)
Barbara Kukulska ) , as well as “The Council of Lviv”
(President Teresa Pakosz, editor-in-chief Anna Gordijewska ), “Radem
Post” Arizona /(ed. chief Victor Zolcinski ), “Council of Courier
Chicago" (ed. chief Adam Ocytko ), “Council of Wnet” (ed.
General Krzysztof Skowroński) and with net portals –
rodaknet.com. iskry.pl, "3 circulation of Aleszuma", incorrect.pl, mpolska24.pl
– associate of the planet Forum of Polish Media – Tarnów –
2005 – 2012 ,
– Conference of the National Festival of Lwowska Song and
Balaku Lwowski – Kraków – 2009 – 2018.
"POLISH PHOTOGRAPHY" FRAGMENY...
...he's got a lute dressed up.
What's your name?
You're nothing but words
And you are the beauty of beauty
It's an unusual speech.
A word that raises the cup of magic
In its simplicity different
You are God's gift.
You're drowning in all your passions.
♪ You're flying in the sky ♪
And in our sorrows and joys
♪ You're gonna rise your size ♪
And you only give birth by yourself
My fruit from the front orchard
You're a golden bear.
Wearing a winegrad ribbon
And you'll always be you
In a word topped your crown
You'll bring beauty out of beauty
The speech has a lute decorated...
See how the leaves fall
Goodbye to the sad bare trees
And under your feet, you're silver.
And under the feet of the ground,
The form of nature is the colour of excitement
I'm looking into the faces of a stranger.
And under their feet they dream
Me years early acquainted
How strangely strange
And below my feet is simply a roaring despair
So I bend down my praying forehead
And in this attitude I want to remain
I wasn't so unusual here.
I even loved shadows here.
And under the feet of a stranger
And below the feet of the scorn
See how the leaves fall
And they're saying goodbye
And my tears will fall
Because only the Lions were our country...
...the altar meadows played with my harp
Priest with a lift bowed
And the first sin of the seed
A broken colour on all sides
They knew the emptiness of my wicked
They knew my wounds.
♪ 'Cause possibly just the cords ♪
Appearingly God - fearing
With grace or with delusion
For what is heaven's grace?
Is only mine a creature
Or just a part of bread
So bless my existence
Or curse the rapture
I don't know if the last breath
The devil or paradise is simply a party...
...love is beautiful, my country
They besides love the trampled
And freed by blood and scar
♪ You've been fraying like a wound ♪
They've already told you generations
Cities disgraced by the blood of death
They say you're enslaved.
And say the ages of the people with grief
Family home between the cottage
You grew proudly and undergroundly
And all you did was bloom with Rota.
Victory but in vain
So I know the day of force stops
And mothers won't cry anymore
So I know your freedom will enter
In this country that has not yet disappeared
Because you've never killed yourself.
Violence has always not yielded
The Queen was and is with you
Blessed be the independent...
...I wrote on the life card
"I will not cast the earth from where our household is from"
I didn't know any another land.
Because it's my home due to the fact that it's my people.
She carved her parent in her prayers
They're already on the run.
And I'm stuck in Polish city
Because my Common Thing
And it's going to sound the forest of poplars.
A note of the Shope of the ears of pride
Blackish things teach singing
Birds of leafy groves noise
The ribbons are paid
And May the odor repeats May
The captivity has broken.
They're turning into a free country.
And I look at the glass with my eye
In a Vistula ton of patterned waters
And on the Wawel slopes I pride
Because this is my home due to the fact that this is my people...
...song has the singing that in Lviv
It's the honorary boys.
The song has the windy Lychakowska
Or possibly Zamarstynowska too
Tones with Stephen allied
With the potty on the line, he was heading
To Bakalija in a hurry
They didn't care that g...
You can only buy cards
And don't worry about anything either.
The product of the star to grease
And don't let the toads rip off
And on the meetings they grew
hay-treated debates
And the enemy people died
Over His Mythical Bread Shape
Dressed with false propaganda
Shining like a bacala g...
Without the cards, of course.
Paper story with a rotation of grey
So he utilized an old newspaper
Prints triumph ants
Or the cheapest average leaves
Herbevo's tusks were withdrawn
Changed to macho hay
Collapsed in plain Lviv’s “Wait”
And to make it even nicer
It's the ladies who are proficient and rebial.
For a stupid crazy neck
To Berta Stark Magazine
For the creation my dad did.
He was discreet under his pants.
To keep from the wind
And they're dressed for the theater
In enema ball dresses
( Even the horse's mane laughed)
They put on these dresses
Rabbit coat aged
( There was a coat cut out in the mole
And the brain was covered in beretik
A terrible red with its purple
And erstwhile the sky hid
Those umbrellas were spread out.
Which in the dumpsters were searched
...hours have besides been changed
When it was half through four.
That's half past 2:00.
And it was joyfully praised
Because life will last longer.
Two hours with the spell.
The benefit was not small.
In five-pointed ideals
When nightfall was half to eight
It was half through six.
And no 1 knew if it was five.
Or possibly just early three.
Others said 9 o'clock.
And others that twelve
And so our red time changed
This red black city
...there was a green line too
San's frightened of a ciubary
Ulan's loser tits on his head
And next to the Nazi ant
And with a dead head exclamation mark
Red Black Lightning
The Kats of the Covenant established
♪ And a blood bath ♪
...Lviv's unusual old city
I've grown like a link
For what crime or punishment?
I'm not watching you live anymore.
The album besides features a Gestapo
♪ Brown face with your dead head ♪
And erstwhile I screamed, Dad
A Dad was already a hell of a spell.
And the dog that died at the head of the hill
When his master was taken from him
And hell of an ambulance howling
♪ erstwhile my parent was bullied ♪
Yes, it is simply a sad reader.
When on any beautiful September night
The city was dressed in Bolsheviks
Also murderers with a dead head...
Where are you lost, Fatherland?
All I see is you being enslaved
And I'm just drowning in gray.
And I'm just reasoning of your misery.
Rows dressed in chessboard
Cut down these September figures
And the hurtful streets
The streets of the chaotic are rife
Elizabeth's Church of the Tower Hole
Marx and Lenin Magazine
A fresh red snigger.
The mix of Moscow and Berlin
Lance for tanks replaced
With God on belts in cross ties
Rape symbol bronzed
And in drang nach osten murdered
The long was September of that year
First time after 17.
Black brown visual spectrum
And the seventeenth knife of darkness
In red dressed in collusion of executioners
September unfortunate in Polish roads
The bellows of the vipers
September howling storm ominous
And then the dance of those winners
With blood a mixed song of misery
The Spirit of Hell's Fortitude
The Phantom Sovereign Master of captivity
Sibir dead cities
Ashed cities
And only Katyn behind the windows
And the crematoria with humans I had
And that's how the leeches went.
Red-headed larvae
And suction swastika caterpillars
The red stars of September days...
...is specified a city of Polish land
Which were turned into barracks
There is simply a city of Polish land
In which millions were prayed
First they were bathed
Then the orchestras played the wind
Then they were dressed again.
In striped outfits delighted
You've got your hair done.
In the teeth of his mustache
They were playing hide and seek
The Lives of a Passed Man
But it was funny.
Usually involving B-cyclone
Who was out of the law
Living beings to Saron
J
A stone silent in its mind
Like the reaper's ears mutilated
The bodies were buried in another coffin.
With the smoke of their bodies prayed
First, they were buried in sand
Later, trained dogs howled
Then the laughter turned.
When the subhumans were frying
Sometimes it was interlaced.
One goi with a 3rd Jew
It's just a jump rope.
Just a dance with juden
Then after many years
The barracks stood as they stood
They no longer thought of their executioners
The museums turned into museums.
And there were many people
Some with stars
Others with a Cross
And they were amazed that the redhead
The girl was besides a cross here
They took a crap out of everything anyway.
In the foolishness of human prayer
That the stars were crossed
Or the another way around.
First they were sprinkled with sand
Then they prayed again.
Later, barracks were scattered
And they turned them into dumps...
The spring nature will slow
Desert sand spinning
And then possibly he'll be free.
This Polish way of getting acquainted
You don't remember anything erstwhile you're above
Reptilian was mastered and persistent
Sucking leeches on the Polish road
And he'd be drunk in the pits.
You don't remember anything erstwhile you smoke
The orchestra turned into marches
You don't remember anything erstwhile your conscience
The intelligent wilderness was trampling
On the edge of his memory
Passed to Generations
Perhaps any hearts in the punishment
They're your forgetfulness today
Maybe just in the movies.
You'll yawn bored of anxiety
But in history, it won't go missing.
When the blood was pouring
When they browned up
The gibberish of the flesh
♪ erstwhile they're red ♪
Katyn crosses died
And how the poet foretold
That Poland has not died yet
And how the poet foretold
Poland has torn out
The wolves were climbing to the grit
Revenge can't halt anything
And so they fucked out of the country
Just to keep the puddles in your hands
A ♪ Hanging proudly in her wave ♪
It's always the Independent.
It was God and the Polish Pope who made
Enemies Poland has not succumbed...
"...the clouds above us will ignite into the eye"
The poet sang the hymn to God
For He alone is the righteous
Helped the enemy's hue
He helped the only day of Genesis
The Creator of the Eternal but Unrelenting
Lord only Your name
Why did you send us so graciously?
Lord, always merciful
Our homeland has been resurrected
Lord, what torments your Son
Love of love you have given us
Be glorified and therefore
That Poland of death you dismissed
We call to you always faithfully
By the boy of Your Wound of Thorns
Let the enemy never contact us.
So aid us God...
...fifty years I see from afar
Fifty digits of Polish punishment
Because they didn't even give us coffins.
Bodies bathed in bath gases
Or tormented in the pulpit
Five-pointed red...
...so I compose well again about flowers
This time the beauty in their purple
And not about the brats in the government discount
But about the poppy in the blood on the hill
Because they drank the blood of freedom
Soldiers in Independence
For they have continued in their greatness
Going to the Independent
And drowned the chaotic multitude
Though they've thinned out the heroes
And September was abruptly created May
A dresser in the triumph of his orders
And though he's turned the reptile into rubble
Comfortable lair so far
It's the Polish roads that changed.
If it wanted a Yalta joke...
SINGLE BEAUTIFUL
It's not worth losing the day
Though you're at night
And the light is on you
And the radiance of gold
Smile your best
When you're inside me
You are the life of the well
And the beauty of sleep
Lviv, 2001
LOVE’S FAITH
Give me your hands.
I'll find myself
Give me your mouth.
A sculpture in the sky
Hide Your Hide
Branko met
Show me our life
When the day in us dies
Kraków, 2008
THE CASTLE WORLD
In my hand is wine
A flower in her chest
And the night falls
Dark
I'm turning contact.
The planet is dying
And you're not with me.
Shecherezada looks mocking
A 1000 nights and one.
The fairy tale is simply a small mocking
And bright and dark
It's not just in fairy tales that happens.
That you'll be with me all the time
♪ And I look to the planet ♪
And bright and dark
SWEDEN AND LOVE BALLADS — CHICAGO 2003 0 3004
NOSTALGIUM EROTICS
Days
It's late.
It's November.
I think so.
Full summer
I'm waiting for your call.
In vain
For now, just a bell trick.
It's an empty apartment.
With his sound he fills
Interesting
It's just a pet cat.
He's squaring his plates.
Shining green
I look in the mirror
Fat
I must be eating besides much.
Some on the street
The stray dogs
Howl
The tram was enumerated
On a rusty turn
Probably not one.
There'll be a streetcar.
Opening window
It's beautiful.
It's raining
She yet came.
In his new
Pink dress
Kraków, 2000
PHOTOGRAPHY
Photograph of the sky
On a blue day
In the cloud soil
And on it is simply a shadow
It blocks paleness
Moon sickle
It's heaven naked
It's screaming and anger.
It's May and the pain
And a complaint of years
Moist salt
Tear from beyond bars
This photo
It's grief and cold
Cloud Map
Turned into ice
And the sky rises
Wind blowing
It's my love
And cry and anger
Lviv, 2001
MEETING
Two I've encountered love
They got close to death.
Two I encountered values
Love and death nothing more
Poems, Kraków 2000
I wish...
I want I could.
Give you the world.
The most beautiful side
But only a faded flower
What can I teardrop my salt
On the Edge of Life
I saw you.
A longing for a hand
Sky rising sail
The sculpture of the frozen temple
And you didn't say anything to yourself
You made me look beautiful.
The wind is the word
Nice
Lines and Love Ballads Chicago 2003 – 2004
OLD LATARIA EROTICS
I'm standing under a lantern
What else shines
It's fog hour.
Maybe half to three.
A young woman approaches
How's it going?
I'll answer you right away.
That I'm not doing well.
I've only been standing alone for an hour.
And I'm fine.
♪ Just a teardrop ♪
She fell on her cheek.
And mixed with rain
She wanted to run.
Until late autumn
You took my hand.
And we disappeared together.
In any dark court
And the rain cried
With my tears alone
It's all seen.
Someone's sad window
Lines and Love Ballads Chicago 2003 – 2004
THE fresh female BALLADA
I am a modern woman
I love the temper of charm
The Charmed Masters Not Modern
The ones with the gallantry are missing.
I have many adorators.
This individual hasn't arrived yet.
An Indifferent Age erstwhile At Purpose
The 1 who's got that thing will show up.
Beauty, please.
And in the butonnier, a flower handkerchief
He's already been playing tricks on one.
And it turned out to be hell.
I like glasses best.
When they fall on his nose
When no more fashionable monocle old
It could besides have an empty bumblebee.
I don't think the paint can hurt.
And yesterday's sword
Not Lancia can ride the Lad
And let him miss something.
There must be a brake in the spare.
When this gentleman embraces me
But only by sight but tenderly
I'm telling you without saying a word.
And the 20th century is almost over.
But there was no 1 who wanted
I'm waiting in the 21st
You're going to be a nonexistent
London, 1995
MY WORLD
There are no sorrows of the world's beauty
There's no grave.
There is no joy as a bird rising
She's doomed by the enemy.
There is no love without the suffering of a flaw
Though love a miracle
There is no loyalty a 100 times
There's only God
No smiles without tears of streams
Salty as salt
There are no sad trees in late autumn
Bleeding as pain
There are no singles without loneliness
Though around the swarm
And there is no planet without your love
There's a defeat pain
Kraków, 2007
LICHO
You've got any slob in you.
♪ erstwhile you're looking out ♪
Whether it's lame or not.
I don't really know what you look like.
She lives in you undressed.
It's a simple small one.
Nicely dressed
You're so lame.
You're looking at me.
Imitating a Long Look
Your slob has a crown
A sweet golden bush dream
You odor good.
It's like the devil's gone.
In the meantime, you're a dignified man.
In a flower handmaiden tucked in
Silver you're gonna gold the tenements
When they're looking at you
With diamonds you weave the streets
♪ erstwhile you're sleazy ♪
It's a simple small one.
You've got any slob inside you.
Maybe inactive immature.
Maybe he's inactive quiet.
Los Angeles, 2001
Spring erotica
Another Spring Ray
The thought of the flower
One more love weave
And a confession at the summit
One more liberation
The shaking hand in the colour of the scream
One more lift.
The odor of rising dawn
Then the exultation
A wandering fear of bloom
Understanding
And the last call of delight
Hollywood 2001
CZECH REPUBLIC
It's besides late.
On the whispers of the springs of plaited meadows
It's besides late.
The sun is turning into a moon circle
It's besides late.
A love song for birds
It's besides late.
The darkness is coming
It's besides late.
On the water lily a flower is broken
It's besides late.
To effort to resurrect past years
Well, possibly again.
We'll rip off the cherry earrings orchard
And possibly our conversation.
Whispering besides early good besides early
Lviv, 2001
WITHOUT WORTH AND WORTH
Without sorrow
She left due to the fact that she wanted to.
Though another love
She wasn't looking.
She didn't get any
With the power of his body
I mean, it's important.
That's all she wanted.
And it's cold
To the border of proximity
And the heart ripped out
My passion.
Did she love grief?
Or just plain dead
Without a passionate frenzy
Or my dead
So she left with a vacuum
With the power of his body
Because of my love
She didn't understand.
Lviv, 2011
THE HELL
At the very top
Little devil lives
It's in his teeth.
One corner on your forehead
In front of his chop store
Hanging sign
I'm going to scare people downstairs
The devil is strange.
With a red tongue
With which time
♪ The lightning's gonna slam ♪
He's been going around at night.
Over a silver lake
♪ And he's got a tail in his head ♪
The moon's shield
The eyes of the devil
Like 2 holes in an oak tree
In which she raises
Little devil
Horror lumbermen by the forest logging
Taking the character
Wild animal
With that devil
I'm certain I can handle it.
I'll tie his tail in a knot.
♪ I'll make a hell of a bed ♪
And I will seduce him
All virgins
Kraków, 1950
SUNDAY SPACE
We're going for a Sunday walk.
And the bells ringing from the daisies
Church string
To get tons out of them
Here the bells of the performance continue
And I'm tired of surviving by day
My tie's crooked.
And the bells ring
There's a fly behind the ear.
Or possibly it's not a fly.
Such a small mutt.
He got caught up with me.
I gave him a pretzel.
And by the church, it's fine.
Shouting country girls
They're not going barefoot.
They came out of the hazel
Morning dew
And in the church, Holy Mass
Full bottomless tray
A Godly people bowed down
And the bells ring
You have a sermon.
How to Bring Good Out of Evil
I can hear you sobbing
Outside the fog
In a crooked world
I'm leaning.
Praying for a priest
And the bells ring
Kraków, 2010
Song
It was a long time ago.
Yesterday, I think.
When your wind was flowing
Over the river
And you said those 2 words
They were not far from us.
And the shadow extended above the grove
Silver-stringed braid weave
♪ And he covered our faces ♪
It was a long time ago.
I look sad into the shield of heaven
And the rising love of fear
This is where I carved your hands
It was a long time ago.
Breaking calendar cards
We live only by our nature
What else can happen
When the sun falls under the cloud
“Flying Birds” Kraków 1997
Under chaotic ivy
Under chaotic ivy
Flower rose
Maybe tired.
Maybe bad.
When another roses with their bud
Covered by grey fog
Over the rose the wind settled
Maybe tired.
Maybe bad
And another roses were adorned
That they weren't afraid
Grey fog
And the sad rose cried
Maybe tired.
Maybe bad.
That she gave her scent
Under chaotic ivy
Grey fog
Kraków, 2001
At the summit of the Lublin Union Mound
Top of the Mound
Nobody welcomes me
White red only
Kirem will shine,
And another faces
They'll grieve strangers,
But Polish soil
And Polish mounds
And the Polish landscape
At the foot
And another speech
A thorny haze.
There were Decembers here.
There were maje,
Eagle freedom
That's smart.
There was a sword.
Red fields
And the odor of Vilnius
And the singing of Podol,
Poland was here
At the slopes of the Lions,
Like that song
Say what you want.
Lviv, 2005
White-red mother
Look at you, Mama.
There's a chorus of red poppies.
There's Poland at your feet
There's the only country in Lviv.
Don't cry, Mom. I'll be right back.
But I gotta leave for a while.
Don't cry, parent in my red
It's the Lions only green
Lviv Our Lives Polish Rota
Nothing that present Golgot's blood
Nothing that you're a shadow today
I'll change it with the protectors.
Don't cry on my soul
I gotta leave for a while.
To return to your feet
And see Polish Lviv.
Kraków, on the anniversary of the Defence of Lviv, November 22, 2009
Fine arts
I paint poems
And I compose flowers
The Most Honest Thoughts
Me poems
Poems Paint
It's not a play.
But flowers sing
What's in the heart
They odor it anyway.
Rows Rise
And a painting ton
In their poesy they endure
Spring flowers
Cloves
Roses of any kind
April Rays
Poems I paint
And I compose flowers
Because my soul
It's poetry.
Lviv, 2005
Manius
Look at our lions.
I'm already in the clear.
In Pohulanka I see again
Our wedding with a view
And all the bells are ringing in Lviv
I'm sorry.
So just say I love you
Not only in May
Manie hop Manie sup
You're a miracle.
When I'm bare
You're off the belt.
You Antos are a good guy.
Some drunk
When you're sober
I'll stick you to the wall.
Because Manka means
I'm not for losers.
You, Antos, are dedicated.
Go to hell.
Manie hop Manie sup
Yeah, me without you like that dead guy.
Give me a kiss.
Don't be like that.
I'm at a organization already
In the fire department
I'll come with the hose.
Sikne him in those monkey faces
So don't resist, Manny.
Give me your heart
'Cause I'm gonna shoot myself tonight.
With you on the ride
First, you're gonna get burned.
Blue angels
Lviv, 2011
NEW ANCUG
It was bought by sy angug new
And to my hulam baby
Dried banana liqueur
Babie gives her gravedigger
And I'm putting on any good stuff.
A fresh part of work on the boat
Baba's laughing
I'm flying in the carousel.
Scissor
Babe in the sand
And a bright angel
♪ Cock in the mouth ♪
Baba in the balac
'Cause I'm the 1 who's gonna burn you.
You'll have your eye broken
You've been playing all Sunday.
Underneath the church you're bending graves
Before you go to yours, you're slapping a baby
Little by small until the end
If you get high, you'll start over and over again.
It's under the influence that'll make you feel better.
Then you will meet Antka Ziółko
An antique you're playing on the nerves
And you're making a fool of yourself.
I'm Manka, not playing
With us aus I talk equally
Yokas, you're giggling.
I'm catulaming to you
And you're tycooning me
It's like heaven to me
An antique you're a breeze
What's the substance with you?
Ancug fresh ground
How you're inactive under your hat
It was bought by sy angug new
And to another hulam baby
What on the corner of the Merchant
He's out of a shoe.
Rach chop, chop
Babu in the sand
And a bright angel
♪ Cock in the mouth ♪
Lviv, 2010
COLOURS
How he danced in Kulparkow
It was the madmen who laughed.
Józku, Józku, you have a bad mind.
That's how crazy people laughed.
Manka danced with me
What came to visit me
And the Kulparks were filled with blood
How that Manka danced
When that Manka left
One crazy Antic blind
For those Mankes he fucked me up
He put cigarettes in the potty.
Manka Manka, remember
Husia pees tup tup tup tup
That already here in Kullpark
You're making me blue dead.
And this 1 crazy Antic.
How half a liter he drank himself
He gave me a dick.
I'd like to mention myself
Then all the blood was pouring
In Kulpark with crazy people
And at the infirmary she danced
The full doctor's room
Manka Manka, remember
Husia pees tup tup tup tup
That already here in Kullpark
You're making me blue dead.
Lviv, 2011
BAYGIELS
Fairy tales, fairy tales
I'm sleeping with her.
And from my Manu
I know what he'll do.
Let's go.
From Manka I'll do
And I'll give him a fuck
There goes the joke.
When Manka's got a pendekiel
And from this dork and skeet
It's Mance who's going to hurt her numberblat.
Farfocle I'll make Mance on top
Then I'm just gonna kick the pipe.
It's all the letters it has.
Face-on-Face Nukes in Letters Four
And I'm gonna go to hell.
Fairy tales, fairy tales
I'm sleeping with her.
Clean bong
I'm gonna blow my brains out.
And in the furry area
improvement schnapps
And the fluszen drought is after fun
When Manka in Chavira
She fell over.
She's the 1 who blew me off.
You know where I have you.
She even gave me a number.
Fairy tales
I'm sleeping with her.
On the drum I snap
♪ He's a sobie ♪
And to the famule I powerfully wrap
Now I have Zoske.
W He was special.
"Wies and Love Ballads" Chicago 2004
