mania

Christmas Eve for three days now, so I decided to post a few words of Polish poets to introduce a truly festive atmosphere. Unfortunately, Christmas has been for some time it became a commercial event, and is probably perceived by marketers as a time when you will sell faster, easier, and more ... I should not be surprising, therefore, that the first Christmas tree I saw this year in early October! [At a hotel in Nottingham - Arlen can confirm;] Rozstraja somewhat my feelings - when you should actually feel the lofty atmosphere of Christmas?

I was so deceived, that I did not buy a Christmas tree: (Unfortunately, the English are beginning to dress a tree at the beginning of December, and maybe even the end of November. 17 December, therefore, when I finally woke up to buy a tree, not even a broken spruce! [O jodełce my dreams do not even remember: P]

Willingly or not, remains the acquisition and embellishment poisencji home decorations from last year. In addition, to our surprise, brought jalapeño chilies from the garden not only survive, but also begins to Czerwieniec (get red peppers of course just not in the list)! Colors have been so preserved;)

Returning to the poetry - less than two lines of Mickiewicz and Kasprowicz. Amazing - so many tracks used to be discussed in the Polish language, and so little I can now recall these for Christmas ...

Adam Mickiewicz

ANGEL

When I reached the star of hope
He flew shining Judea
Christmas angels sang the anthem;
Sages we have not seen
Kings have not heard
Shepherds postrzegli
I ran to Bethlehem:
The first eternal wisdom of greeting,
Eternal power considered
Poor, simple and small.

Jan Kasprowicz

AT Christmas Eve table

On Christmas Eve table
Breaking the sacred wafer,
Remember what that day is exhilarating
The charity is conceived,

That, as you all say
The old, the eternal message,
The first star in the sky
God is in your house incumbent.

The heart to accept it hot,
At the gates open SCIEZ -
Here's what you do makes
Love, the greatest virtue.

A creative deprived of fire,
Shamefully shut its interior,
Who lives with his brother in disagreement,
Trampling the holy message.

Mutual forgiveness of guilt,
End of the affected place,
And the struggle comes out victorious
Fighting the nation's heart.

For instance, writing a new "article" (not yet published ^[1] !), I read this poem Milosz and discovered that it was written at Easter 1943. Hence, I put it below:

Campo di Fiori ^[2]

In Rome, the Campo di Fiori
Baskets oil and lemons,
Cobbles spattered with wine
And the wreckage of flowers.
Rosy Seafood
Scatter on the tables of vendors,
Armfuls of dark grapes
Fall down on the peach.

On this same square
They burned Giordano Bruno
Kat flames averted
In the circle of an interesting crowd.
The flames had died,
Taverns were full again,
Baskets of olives and lemons
They carried on the vendors' heads.

The Campo dei Fiori
In Warsaw at the carousel
On a clear spring evening
The sound of lively music.
Salvos from the ghetto wall
Lively melody drowned
I wzlatywały couples
High in the cloudless sky.

Sometimes the wind from the burning
Dark kites,
Scraps caught in the air
Riders on the carousel.
Ruffled skirts of the girls
The wind from the burning of houses,
The crowds were laughing
On that beautiful Warsaw Sunday.

Someone will read as moral,
That the people of Rome or Warsaw
Haggle, laugh, love
They pass by martyrs' pyres.
Someone else will read
Passing of things human,
About oblivion,
Before the flames have died.

But then I thought
The loneliness of the dying.
The fact that when Giordano
Ascended the scaffold,
Not found in human language
Not one word,
For him to say goodbye humanity,
This humanity, that is.

Even the experts lean wine,
Selling white starfish,
Baskets of olives and lemons
Carried in a gay dialect.
I had already distanced
As if centuries had passed
And they waited a moment
On his departure in the fire.

Those dying, the lonely
Forgotten by the world,
Our language has become a stranger to them
As the language of an ancient planet.
Until everything is legend
And then, after many years
On the new Campo di Fiori
Word of the poet's rage will kindle.

Warsaw - Easter, 1943

First "no particle of participles przymiotnikowymi - active and passive - always write together, regardless of importance, ie the participle used as adjective in the sense, as well as verb meaning, and so it is always: non-drinker, non-smoker, an unbeliever, intact, invaluable , unknown, etc. Occasionally separately, as with adjectives - no particle should be written in clear oppositions, such as not drinking, but eating, not undermined, but completely destroyed, and the structures in the negative, such as for example, neither loving nor not love. In such cases, also with adjectives particle is not written separately, eg, not red, but green and not green, not red. "Quote comes from: Not with participles przymiotnikowymi (in principle) always together, Communications of the Polish Language Polish Academy of Sciences, No. 1 (2), 1998, p. 2
2nd Rescue, Reader, Warsaw, 1945