A ballad that we do not perish
Those who sailed at dawn
but will never return
left their trace on a wave--
a shell fell to the bottom of the sea
beautiful as lips turned to stone
those who walked on a sandy road
but could not reach the shuttered windows
though they already saw the roofs--
they have found shelter in a bell of air
but those who leave behind only
a room grown cold a few books
an empty inkwell white paper--
in truth they have not completely died
their whisper travels through thickets of wallpaper
their level head still lives in the ceiling
their paradise was made of air
of water lime and earth an angel of wind
will pulverize the body in its hand
they will be
carried over the meadows of this world
Those who sailed at dawn
but will never return
left their trace on a wave--
a shell fell to the bottom of the sea
beautiful as lips turned to stone
those who walked on a sandy road
but could not reach the shuttered windows
though they already saw the roofs--
they have found shelter in a bell of air
but those who leave behind only
a room grown cold a few books
an empty inkwell white paper--
in truth they have not completely died
their whisper travels through thickets of wallpaper
their level head still lives in the ceiling
their paradise was made of air
of water lime and earth an angel of wind
will pulverize the body in its hand
they will be
carried over the meadows of this world
Une ballade qui nous ne périrons
Ceux qui ont navigué à l'aube
mais ne reviendra jamais
Leur trace laissée sur une vague -
un obus est tombé au fond de la mer.
belle que les lèvres se transforma en pierre
Ceux qui marchaient sur une route de sable
mais n'a pas pu atteindre les fenêtres aux volets clos
Déjà s'ils voyaient les toits -
Ils ont trouvé refuge dans une cloche d'air
Ceux qui laissent derrière eux, mais seulement
une salle devenu froid quelques livres
un encrier papier blanc vide -
en vérité pas complètement mort en faisant beaucoup
Leur murmure parcourt fourrés de papier peint
Leur niveau de la tête vit encore dans le plafond
Leur paradis a été faite de l'air
d'eau de chaux et de terre un ange du vent
va pulvériser le corps dans sa main
Ils seront
porté sur les prairies de ce monde
A Halt
We halted in a town the host
ordered the table to be moved to the garden the first star
shone out and faded we were breaking bread
crickets were heard in the twilight loosestrife
a cry but a cry of a child otherwise the bustle
of insects of men a thick scent of earth
those who were sitting with their backs to the wall
saw violet now - the gallows hill
on the wall the dense ivy of executions
we were eating much
as is usual when nobody pays
Poetry: Zbigniew Herbert - A ballad that we do not perish - Une ballade qui nous ne périrons - A Halt - Bio Links
Zbigniew Herbert - Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre
es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zbigniew_Herbert
Zbigniew Herbert. De Wikipedia, la enciclopedia libre. Saltar a: navegación, búsqueda. Zbigniew Herbert. Zbigniew Herbert (1924-1998) fue un poeta polaco.Zbigniew Herbert - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
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Zbigniew Herbert
['zbiɡɲɛf ˈxɛrbɛrt] ( listen) (29 October 1924 – 28 July 1998) was a
Polish poet, essayist, drama writer, author of plays, and moralist.Ricardo M Marcenaro - Facebook
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