Ols - Pod Lodem

UNDER THE ICE

…and the wind licks the wounds of the earth,
snow caresses crumbled bones.
With the silence of stars, the ice looks through the soul,
through the transparent death of bodies.

The wind licks your wounds,
the world returns to its womb.
Particles of dead bodies
in a huge body of earth.
The ice is staring with the eyesight of an animal.
This pain will be with you till the end,
until the world is over, until the time is closed,
and the night extinguishes the furnaces of sun.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of us
and darkness will descend in the middle of the day.
It's the end of the world, dead time freezes.
Winter has opened the sky - the mute mouth of the stars.

The earth leads life into a stillness of waters,
into liquefied state of pre-beginning,
it turns it into seeds of future dreams,
it devoured us to conceive a new world.

The ice above us - heaven's dead eyesight.
Underneath – water, dissolution of forms.
The known world will fall dead into its embrace
and will sleep forever under the ice.

An endless loneliness,
that sacrifice offered to winter.
On the lips – a flavour of emptiness,
a taste of everlasting in the silence.
Mute heaven while dying
mercifully yields a star of a snowflake.
The universe departs into silence,
into motionless perfection.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of us
and darkness will descend in the middle of the day.
It's the end of the world, dead time freezes.
In the empty eye of the sky, the departing glow is fading.

The ice above you - heaven’s dead eyesight.
Underneath – water, dissolution of forms.
You too will fall dead into its embrace
to sleep forever under the ice.

Leaving quietly into the stillness of waters,
into the liquefied state of pre-beginning.
They devoured you to conceive again,
while you are sleeping under the ice forever.

"For a few years, your dying shadow will sway over the grave,
like a thistle seed caught on its own ray.
Years will pass quietly in rains and sunshines,
in a sweet melody that is called "everything passes".
You will be staring with unclosing eyes from under the branchy willow-
You will be burning on the grave with a blue light every All-Souls Night-
despite a downpour, a gale, a blizzard -
And then one time - spring will blow - and you will fly away, free."
Józef Czechowicz “O śmierci”(“Of death”)