Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Ordinary field stones. A poem

It's a lost world. Which world? The world of Catholic Church priests. Really? Yes, I think so ... rapidly losing it's battle to win the hearts and minds of their flock in the Western World.

At the same time I always realize I could have been a priest or monk too. If I would be one - I know I never will - I would try to be someone like Jan Twardowski (1915 – 2006). I like his poems, his images and the way he treats the world around him. This is one of his poems I like best. See how pure.


One by one all the trees non-believers,
birds refuse to study religion
the dogs rarely goes to church
they really don't know anything
and see how odedient

insects under the tree bark know nothing of the gospels
even the white caraway so meek in the pasture
ordinary field stones
tears plowing the skin
have never heard of Saint Francis
and see how poor

the stars refuse to hear my sermons
so does the humble lily of the valley, all too familiar, alone
the peaceful mountains that, like faith, keep on
love with a heart condition
and see how pure

Poem 'Faithless Trees' (polish 'Drzewa Niewierzace') is written by Jan Twardowski. Translation by A. Mioduchowska and M. Garanis

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