POEMS
Bohdan Zadura
FAREWELL TO OSTEND
I
We may call this compulsion freedom
The beaches of April rocky and empty
And the wind
It
alone is ubiquitous
o
belated spring The light from the stars
Runs to the eye too long Too long
Green gathers itself into bloom Too long
We learn patience Too many questions
Poorly phrased for this one life
Too many experiences exclude
Perhaps there are no answers Perhaps
The answer is in the questions Perhaps
May be an experiment To Be perhaps
II
The sun stood still on the zenith 0 belated knowledge of
Enlightening dreams How many years are needed
To know oneself-he said looking at the people through the
pane
K. was silent He judged the proper
Answer to the world to be silence K.
Had that behind him He believed in secrets
Translated from the Polish by Hubert F. Babinski
