(04 October 1943 / Germany)


Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/20/2019

Nobody has learned their taste better
than those for whom they were water substitute
When they competed with each other
licking the snow flakes off the corners of their mouths surreptitiously:
They didn't know the taste of the tears
in a place where even the dog didn't survive.
Nobody investigated, there were no investigations
On this wasteland of continuous snowstorm
And even the guard should be deaf
Or he took the same train
There where today pine forest grows
- They repaint boulder of their own disgrace.
They instilled so much vile propaganda
Because if the Nation doesn't understand something
then it's not obvious that you can bury without coffins
And there are no inhibitions for such ingenious ones:
In such a way, in brief and cursorily,
the word regime can be defined.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 9/12/2019

*Emilia Musialowska, née Szczepańska, born in Kamieniec Podolski, was exiled to Irkutsk with her family. After the end of the Second World War she returned to Kamieniec, and then, after the division of Europe in Yalta, she left for Poland, to the city of Niemodlin, which was a part of former German territories. She lived in a small apartment on Żeromskiego street. Wanting to unite the whole family, she convinced her youngest son Joseph to return to Poland from Belgium. After his return he was immediately arrested by the Secret Political Police (UB) under the suspicion of spying for the Allies. He was detained in a tiny cell, he was beaten and tormented in a sophisticated manner to confess to espionage. One of the forms of torture used was the dripping water, which dripped constantly, without stopping, twenty-four hours a day. Every now and then, Joseph was released from the prison and locked in a mental hospital, where various pharmaceuticals had been administered to him.

After a few years of such 'therapy', he died.


Nikt tak nie poznał smaku białych płatków
Jak ci dla których był wodą bez wody
Kiedy stawali ze sobą w zawody
I zlizywali z policzków ukradkiem:
Nie spróbowali smaku łez
Tam gdzie nie przeżył nawet pies.

Nikt nie dochodził nie było dochodzeń
Na tym pustkowiu ciągłej zawieruchy
I nawet strażnik powinien być głuchy
Albo pojechał tym samym pociągiem
Tam gdzie dziś rośnie sosnowy las
- Przemalowują swej hańby głaz.

Wpoili tyle podłej propagandy
Bo jeśli Naród czegoś nie rozumie
Nie wie że można pogrzebać bez trumien
I nie ma przeszkód dla takich zaradnych:
Tak w wielkim skrócie i pobieżnie
Można określić słowo reżim.

Copyright © by Wieslaw Musialowski 9/12/2019

User Rating: 5 / 5 ( 0 votes ) 4

Comments (4)

Good moral....makes you think.......
Yes this is good herbert, is the moral of the story watch your back i personly would have had the wench on top, , therefore protecting my back i enjoyed this poem and it was a poem, not a short story i myself have only got to this poem, i was having my bit of fun for the day keeping everone awake with my barking, and my little dog tricks counting my number ones Warm regards herbert Allan
I echo Pradeep's comments. Very well done.
Beautiful poem.Loved it.Thank you.