zofia beszczyńska

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*

I cannot find a stone
to shut the city up; it still
pinches the brim of my skirt
a wisp of hair
I left there the Angel: he sits
with a torn wing shivering over the river
his perfect feet half-steeped in water
I watch it from a high tower I cannot
budge: I see it is a dream
such things do not happen to reality
in a moment he will fly away parting
the space of the sky: the waves
will attack me

high up somebody is singing
invisible


translated by Agnieszka Kreczmar

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