Vox Populi
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Zbigniew Herbert: The Envoy of Mr. Cogito
Go where those others went to the dark boundary
for the golden fleece of nothingness your last prize
go upright among those who are on their knees
among those with their backs turned and those toppled in the dust
you were saved not in order to live
you have little time you must give testimony
be courageous when the mind deceives you be courageous
in the final account only this is important
and let your helpless Anger be like the sea
whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten
let your sister Scorn not leave you
for the informers executioners cowards—they will win
they will go to your funeral and with relief will throw a lump of earth
the woodborer will write your smoothed-over biography
and do not forgive truly it is not in your power
to forgive in the name of those betrayed at dawn
beware however of unnecessary pride
keep looking at your clown’s face in the mirror
repeat: I was called—weren’t there better ones than I
beware of dryness of heart love the morning spring
the bird with an unknown name the winter oak
light on a wall the splendour of the sky
they don’t need your warm breath
they are there to say: no one will console you
be vigilant—when the light on the mountains gives the sign—arise and go
as long as blood turns in the breast your dark star
repeat old incantations of humanity fables and legends
because this is how you will attain the good you will not attain
repeat great words repeat them stubbornly
like those crossing the desert who perished in the sand
and they will reward you with what they have at hand
with the whip of laughter with murder on a garbage heap
go because only in this way will you be admitted to the company of cold skulls
to the company of your ancestors: Gilgamesh Hector Roland
the defenders of the kingdom without limit and the city of ashes
Be faithful Go
~~~~~
Poem copyright 1993, translated by John and Bogdana Carpenter.
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Admirable irony in this poem!
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Yes, I agree.
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What a wonderful poem it is. The Polish poets Milosz, Herbert, Zagajewski, Symborska, and others translate well into our days, and all figure out ways to transcend the captive mind ensnared by the thought police. Both in its style and commentary it begs us to listen and act.
Thanks for bringing this to our attention. Others comment here quite eloquently of the work. It reads almost like an ars poetica or poetic manifesto for me. May it long survive.
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Thanks, Jim. I appreciate your comments as well.
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OMG, this poem talks about everything we face today. And tomorrow. And what we faced before Communism. In Germany the Soviets only changed the street names and the pictures on the school walls. The honesty and the art of the word, the heartbreaking courage in view of futility. But, go… “you were saved not in order to live / you have little time you must give testimony // be courageous when the mind deceives you be courageous / in the final account only this is important // and let your helpless Anger be like the sea / whenever you hear the voice of the insulted and beaten”
I wish I had the art. I don’t even know whether I would have the courage.
–Rosmarie Epaminondas (Rose Mary Boehm)
http://rosemaryboehm.weebly.com/https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/ https://www.rose-mary-boehm-poet.com/* https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCR9fygcz_kL4LGuYcvmC8lQ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCR9fygcz_kL4LGuYcvmC8lQ
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you have some mighty fine art, and I always learn much from your commentaries. You have shown great courage too, in the subjects your poetry tackles. Stay strong.
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One of the poems I love most of all, that I will always wish I had written, that I never could have for many reasons. But every time I read it I feel humbled and honored and inspired and hopeful and chastened and alive, alive, alive.
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Thanks, Robert! Less eloquently: me too.
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Though I have loved this poem for many years, its unexpected arrival this morning has moved me deeply: it is so easy to dismiss oneself as an artist, so easy to forget “you were saved not in order to live/ you have little time you must give testimony.”
I said to myself, “no more pinching off the flame again and again, trying to make the candle last a little longer. Thanks Mr. Cogito, for the cold, clear water, thanks Zbigniew Herbert, for walking the walk, for the footsteps that make the trail. And thanks, Michael Simms, for whatever wisdom possessed you to post this today.” Truly, thank you.
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And thank you, Richard, for your attentive reading of VP for many years.
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