Last night I dreamt of a man with dark curly hair who was telling me: “I’ve been loving you for a long time, did you know?” “Yes, yes, sure, but now kiss me” I replied but I woke up before he kissed me in the dream. Later, I would narrate the dream to my friends and for some reason, Ewa said, “oh this reminds me of a novel in Polish that I love. I’ll try to find it for you”.
I love this kind of events, this randomness that leads us to discover unknown writers, books that are beautiful but we somehow ignore. And this is what I love most about being here and meeting all these people from other countries, countries I would normally not feel inclined to explore. Ewa is Polish and before I came here, I hardly knew anything about her country. I remember Lech Valessa from the 80s, I knew many Polish people, especially Jews had died during WWII and that was about it. I didn’t even have the usual stereotypes about the Polish nation. But since I met her and some other Polish people, all very interesting, all very special, I have become intrigued. I loved the short glimpse I took of Warsaw last year when I went for a weekend and I would like to go back one day. But most I want to explore their literature to learn more about these proud people with the strange sounding language and the surnames I cannot pronounce (honest to god, I’m trying Ewa…). A little book that helped me as an introduction to Poland is the one below – the whole series is very useful if you read French (Collection – L’ame de peuples)
So by this kind of happy coincidence, I just discovered Edward Stachura (pronounced ˈɛdvard sta’xura – fairly easy this one), a Polish writer and poet who “lived his life as well as wrote it”. The beautiful stort story Ewa had mentioned is the “With my willpower I will fall in love with her” and I found this and most of all the information I mention here in the site of an American professor, called Andrzej Duszenko who seems to have translated a lot of his work and set up this comprehensive webpage about the writer.
What I liked most about the story is this dreamlike feeling that you have from the beginning and at the moment you have been persuaded that this is not a dream, this is really happening, the writer crashes your hopes and leaves you just as dreams do: devastated. A truly big attribute when writers manage to instill those feelings. This story made literally my heart race, as if I was taking part in it and to be able to do that – I call it great literature.
I am going through the rest of the work available in English now and I see that the professor has another page on another Polish poet I love, Wisława Szymborska and I intend to explore that too.
UPDATE June 2016: I’ve read more Polish literature since I wrote that post. And I discovered another interesting poet from Krakow this time, Ewa Lipska. Here is one of her poems:
Plum Cake
I remove from your face
a crumb of plum cake.
A tiny print of tenderness.
Far from any ideas
I place it on the ancient china of the page.
Let it be recorded forever.
We don’t know when
a draft blew everything away.
Someone opened a window. Someone opened a door.
After years
I still visit pastry shops.
I resent your being only an illusion for me.
And even the night cannot guess
when we are together.
I owe a lot to Ewa so far, for the delicious quince vodka she introduced me to, for her enthusiasm and inner power. I now owe her this exquisite piece of literature as well. Thank you mate!
Interesting how you found out about this writer! Eager to discover him too! Thank you, and Ewa as well! 🙂
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Ici, tu l’ecouteras chanter “Il n’y a pas d’amour heureux ” de Louis Aragon !
Bisessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
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