EDWARD STACHURA

Communion (from Missa Pagana)

And if it's a spontaneous thing
And if it's an obvious thing
And if it's a natural thing
Take
What's given here
In the name of the sun
And his messenger
Whistling lark, amen

EDWARD STACHURA
Autumn
To immerse immerse oneself
in the gardens of russet autumn
and to pick leaves one by one
like the hours of our life
To walk from tree to tree
out of pain and into pain
silently with suffering's step
careful not to wake the wind
And to pick leaves with no regret
with a warm and sorrowful smile
and to leave one last remaining leaf
to someone and then die

EDWARD STACHURA
Dreams were found...
Dreams were found
which once I put
into a pocket with a hole
when night
the huge crow
flew into the good translucent river
That night
bats devoured all the stars
the white butterflies
only the black butterflies were left
Truth was like the moon
rolling on smooth mirror
for four weeks
Dreams were found
a thick oak stick

EDWARD STACHURA
When I heard the news...
When I heard the news about the earthquake in Chile
my feet were ashamed
and immediately they wanted to sink
into some hellish ravine
so I reminded them about common sense
that for me the quake is as great below me
as the vengeance of gophers on the lotus flower
so I reminded them about patience
and ask them to master it

EDWARD STACHURA
I have just passed through the night
I have just passed through the night and nobody comes to greet me
nobody at all tells me welcome
come join us for breakfast as well as for supper
and let sleep overwhelm you in between
I have just passed through the night and nobody comes to greet me
though I worked hard at searching
at looking for these immortal gates
for these abandoned gates that I'm seeking
I have just passed through the night and nobody will ask me
nobody at all will ask me how was your journey
how was your walk through the black foliage
I say I have passed through the night and I am tired
neither a faun nor a guardian angel has visited me
not even the tiniest fire-fly

EDWARD STACHURA
Only my wife
Only my wife
smelled of wax
and the rose colored rain
that was promised to me by angels
with slender fingers
like the necks of deer
slaughtered
at the appropriate phase of the kingdom
or the moon

EDWARD STACHURA
There were those who were born
There were those who were born
there were those who died
oh, feudal landlady of our days and nights
cemetery weasel, eater of sweat's last drops
tartars' mistress, everybody's jealous lover
disturber of water, lewd temptress
cellar fungus, mythical venom, untimely poisoner
founder of the borgia house, ghetto muse, bone tower
bone ark, bone gates, bone rose
creeping rust, palm of impatience
dark machinery hidden in the peacock's fan
inescapable banner at half-mast
extinguisher of the spark and the beacons, hallow hum
you who smite ripe wheat
and the delicate winter crop's beautiful unknown
who put the sharp weapon in your hand, you ordinary madwoman
there were those who were born
there were those who died
there were those for whom
this was not enough

EDWARD STACHURA
The order of things events
The order of things events
the sequence of tenses et cetera
what can we do with this sand bag
what can we do with this plaster
in four directions the wind has scattered
the household walls
in four directions the wind has scattered
the portrait frames
how will it all end
I speak with my hand on my heart
my legs in stirrups of mud
my blue eyes towards the sky
what troubles me is not
whose hand will destroy me
what troubles me is not
which whirlpool will swallow me
what troubles me is not
which planet will crush me
not letting words overtake the thought
I rid myself of all conjectures
like acanthus leaves

EDWARD STACHURA
Preface (from Missa Pagana)
It is very meet, right
And our bounden duty
To laugh loudly
Weep quietly
The rain subsides
Orchards bloom
In this we can trust
It is very meet, right
And our bounden duty
To walk and fall
Then rise from the fall
The war passed through
Grass comes up
In this we can trust
It is very meet, right
And our bounden duty
To watch the stars
Play violin
Astronomy
And music
In this we can trust
It is very meet, right
And our bounden duty
To be attentive
Filled with passion
It's good for you
Birds whistle
In this we can trust
It is very meet, right
And our bounden duty
That in this life
Man should be meet
And right
That man
Should be man
Leaves fall
The forest rustles
The wind is plaiting
Drifting clouds
In this we can trust

EDWARD STACHURA
White Locomotive (Song)
She was gliding through black grass
Gliding through the burned down woods
Passing the charred remains of gates
She sailed through memories of cities
White Locomotive
What is she doing here in death's realm
This miracle phantom filled with life
Here among worthless empty lines
Where only black dust remains
White Locomotive
Oh who gave her to me
This magnificent gift
Who sent her to come for me
To take me away from here
in the White Locomotive
Oh who oh who could it be
Who without me refuses to live
And begs me to rise from the dead once more
And open my eyes to the bright call
of the White Locomotive
We are gliding through black grass
Gliding through the burned down woods
Passing the charred remains of gates
We sail through memories of cities
with the White Locomotive
Where bees are humming rivers splash
Where sunlight falls and the shadows of trees
To the one that in life still waits for me
Carry me back to life carry me
White Locomotive

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EDWARD STACHURA
Song VI
The rain washed away
the bright eyes of the stars
It muddied the pond's quiet peace
How sad
The wet cold knocks on the window
Wet notes like split seconds of autumn
flow down the glass
How sad
The rain stole away the child's dream
The lovely fairy tales
the rain stole them away
How sad
Symphonies of wet notes were marching
the child did not go back to sleep
How sad

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Keep going forward

Am I lost? am I finished?
Soothsayer, who reads clouds like books,
Look and read what they say about me.
Pull aside the curtain on this jungle, break through it!
The jungle is real, whirling, denser every day
My own prophetic eyes can't see very much:
Roads cross, time entangles
What was, what is, and what will be.
The jungle is terrifying, whirling, denser every day,
The dust cloud rages, day and night are lost.
The herd of horses stampedes, the forest is in flames,
The smoke rises and thickens as it fills the air.
I can't see anything, everything's white.
Keep going forward, leave me the dreams.
Nothing is lost, nothing is finished
when the road is in front of you
And you stay in the background.

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Song for the plague-stricken

Miraculous it is :
Air is!
I have two arms,
I have two legs!
In the haversack : bread,
To put on it : cheese,
To drink : rain.
Night comes
It brings cold.
I have two arms,
I'll hug myself.
Cover myself,
Nestle myself
In my own hide.
Dawn is still far,
It's pitch black.
I have two legs,
We'll get there.
Dogs bark!
Mists drift!
You madam go to sleep!
Air is :
Miraculous it is!

In one of the taped versions of this song the poet substituted this line with :
God is sharpening his teeth

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