Poem: Of Jagged Lines

[hazelbite]

Well, I just remembered that I haven't posted this poem yet. I quite like this one. It was written for a "translation" assignment in creative writing. We were given a poem written in Polish and where told to "translate" it into what we thought it said without cheating (ie. finding the real translation).


Here is the poem in all its Polish glory:

OD JAKIEGOS CZASU

Tadeusz Rozewicz

Od kilku lat
proces umierania poezji
jest przyspieszony

zauwazylem
ze nowe wiersze
oglaszane w tygodnikach
ulegaja rozkladowi
w ciagu dwoch trzech godzin

umarli poeci
odchodza szibciej
zywi
wyrzucaja ze siebie
w pospiechu
nowe ksiazki
jakby chcieli zapchac papierem
dziure

-->Without all the crazy accenty things 'cause I'm too lazy.


And here is what I came up with:

Of Jagged Lines

Elizabeth F.

Of knowing that
which has purpose,
just disappears.

Direction
is only twisted,
organization trampled,
through ripped
and coarsely defined trenches.

Without purpose,
words cut off
then,
cast away
and erased,
only one word
written on crinkled paper:
Desire.

-->As you can see, I tried to stick to the same number of lines and words. It was hard to write that way but I love the result. :D


And here is what the poem really says:

FOR SOME TIME NOW

Tadeusz Rozewicz

For several years
the process by which peotry dies
has been accelerating

I have noticed
that new verses
published in the weeklies
undergo decomposition
in a matter of two or three hours

dead poets
depart more quickly
living ones
toss off
new books
in a hurry as though
they wished to stuff a hole with
paper

-->A good poem but I like mine better. I may be biased, though. ;D

All for now, I have some things to go type up and I'm in the middle of an RPG.
Au revoir!
~Liz