Przemysław Gintrowski - Potęga smaku

It did not require great character at all
Our refusal, disagreement and tenacity
We had some of the necessary courage
But actually it was a matter of taste
Yes, taste
In which there are fibers of soul and gristles of conscience.

Who knows, if we were temptated better and prettier
If we had been sent pink women, flat as wafer
Or fantastic creations out of the paintings of Hieronymus Bosch;
But Hell at that moment was like-
Wet pit, backstreet, barrack of murderers
Called "the Palace of Justice"
Moonshine Mephisto in lenin jacket
Was sending out in the field grandsons of Aurora
Boys with potato faces
Very ugly girls with red hands.

Verily, their rethoric was too sackcloth
(Marcus Tullius was rolling in his grave)
Chains of tautology, couple of terms like flails
Torturers' dialectic, no distinction in reasoning
Syntax deprived of the beauty of subjunctive.

Thus, esthetics can be useful in life
One shall not neglect the science of beauty.

Beofre we apply for the access, we shall urgently examine
The shape of architecture, rhythm of drums and pipes
Official colours, wicked ritual of funerals.

Our eyes and ears rejected obedience
Princes of our senses chose proud exile.

It did not require great character at all
We had some of the necessary courage
But actually, it was a matter of taste
Yes, taste
That tells to go out, to frown, to spit out a derision
Even if, because of this, there would have to fall the priceless body's capital
The head.