JOANNA OPAREK
1.
Don’t keep asking if I’ve been in Berlin ask if Berlin’s been in me
the bell chimes John Donne John Donne John Donne
You can ask me of other cities by all means
I’ve been everywhere and everything’s been in me
already!
ask me of the dark
alleyways passageways parking lots
the wooden paravan in the parking lot
and the automat
super-lit streets and plazas
the streets distend suddenly
up and down
arrival and departure four lanes of fright
I’m clearing out of here
at the speed of sight
up and down
Of course I can recognize the culprits
which is why I’m packing up my bags
already! I’m leaving town
but Berlin reaches me and swells
as quickly as I flee from it
slurs cannot curse it and its disgrace
won’t erode its fame
Here’s the finest part of the city a district with potential
with a vista
a perfect panorama of culture
disgrace covers it with shiny plaster and entices
with velvety bitumen
it’s a coherent undertaking
the insubordination of denizens constitutes the design
and execution
fugitives and visitors constitute
the pulsing prospect
cosmopolitism
gives Berlin its potency its headlong development
It’s a string of incidents
there’d be nothing if what’s new didn’t age
the young grow fat the hungry rich
if pallor never paired with grime
if a woman never struck a man
and a man had never come into a woman and this traffic
is a magnified vitreous sweet-sounding traffic
storefront windows are transmitting waves of brief ecstasies
just look at
how those souls aroused quiver
tiaras necklaces displayed on pillows
Hirst’s skulls patched with glowing stones
a diamond cut like a medusa jellyfish and pavement like the belly of a whale
alas!
Moby Dick himself
because meaning must conceal itself in everything
the crowd appears profound and their desire embeds itself
like plankton
the heaving crowd serves it and grime is edible
beauty digestible
how beautiful are the gestures of manikins
as they imitate natural human gestures
they stand at full tilt as I run
stock-still
so that satellites are prone to overlook me!
2.
I’m lying under him like a log like an amateur
and the city with its steel tongue slides into me
and starts to moan
Oh!
how many fucking tales does Berlin contain oh!
it’s always aflame and sings with a raspy voice
it’s about plain associations and nothing more
how’s it thinkable not to think of Marlene
each metropolis has its own legend and serial murderers
and old women artists are just the right material
for immortal legends
all the Marlenes Isadores Tamaras
good and perpetual like wars soon we’ll ask
where those filming venues are as renderings
of scaffolding taunt the ruins and there where grass
grows there’s now a steel bush
the parking-lot god the taxpayers’ terror the pledge of peace
thing’s no longer burn or rust I pass
a silver bugatti on display
I think no one’s going to buy it how sad
no one’s going to steal it
the gleam enters through my eyes the gleam
makes me fold the seat down Oh!
do I really want to make love this instant
when they’re after me
this isn’t a good moment not now as I’m on the run
up and down streets extend in all directions
up and down I want to make love in a silver bugatti
a lunatic a bugatti and arteries distend
the air smells of blood
the water tastes of metal
Sirens howl
Howling sirens without tails
4.
Who cut off the tail of this beautiful woman she kept her feet together and the silvery scales
slippery and agile gleamed so alluringly on her thighs
now they’re gooey
anything can stick to her any sickness
why was she fished out anyway
the net has such small deceitful holes no beauty can elude them
not even a siren can slip past
Nope!
beauty is a mound of dead fish and silver oozes to the bottom of the boat like slime
the price is steep but bottoms out
Just don’t haul me to these tearful waters
beauty is a heap of dead fish fits of beauty
don’t affirm the movements of the soul they’re only spasms
everything dwindles as distribution widens
the net is woven out of friendly hugs
like billions of little salesmen
who link up with their hands and form a chain
the chain proclaims the net and what is found in the net
winds up with a chain around its throat
a red ball in its mouth
fish goes well with bread the murderer of prostitutes
is reliable like a baker
for him every morning a great loaf of daily life rises
golden pliant crisp
how to add fish to it will certainly be a story will be Christ
he will multiply and divvy up as increase is the source of happiness
Sirens howl it resounds around the town bringing cars to a halt
Sirens howling howling without their tails
9.
Happy Madelaine greets you standing in the street in a miniskirt
black-and-red plaid with a slit down the side
revealing her stocking’s garter belt
Madelaine with a slit so revealing that’s how she bought her parking stub
a black leather jacket squeezes Madelaine
the conversation courses without a hitch
Madelaine looks delish like breakfast pastry
and perky as Astrid Lindgren her parents own a large villa
she ties her dark undyed hair into two ponytails
she’s a girl who knows what she wants and her boyfriend
knows of everything accepts her occupation and isn’t jealous
a handsome black man conducts an interview with Madelaine
he can’t help but admire her brings the microphone closer and closer
and it bulges it’s a typical journalistic erection
the spreading smiling lips of Madelaine and in her mouth
everything’s forthright like a boner
divine truths are forthright and the photo frames are really fine
the wind lifts the plaid skirt the street seems secure
display windows are lit Madelaine’s clients carry light
they’re livid torches she’s the flame – that’s right
she doesn’t pretend to be a teen with matches the evening is warm
the heart of Berlin the capital of freedom beats beneath the leather jacket
Madelaine works just five days a week and on the weekend
has fun with friends in clubs they have fun like average people
who the hell are her friends I think for five seconds for five whole seconds
about the social life of little Madelaine the hot pastry
Madelaine shakes her ponytails No! Surely not!
She doesn’t know of the woman who was murdered yesterday she’s never heard
of the Austrian writer who hung himself in jail when she was just a child
she doesn’t know
John Malkovich is now portraying him
that the play’s premier took place in Los Angeles
she doesn’t know
what to call a knot that stiffens the rope
and actually it was a drawstring from a pair of sweatpants or maybe cable or metal wire
Jack Unterweger was faithful to his noose
he tied it identically on the necks of all his prey
and in the end
it made him erect like a clock showing twelve
In honor of his memory
a baker names his own knot exactly that
an Unterweger
Snow like flour on the streets of Berlin
The mundane Leviathan slowly grows
Its heart is hard like the bottom millstone
It devours and delivers salt water
Are you aligning yourself with him or obliging him to serve.
Are you binding him for your little siren daughters
Translated from the Polish by Lynn Suh
JOANNA OPAREK (born 1967) is a Polish poet, writer, playwright, and curator of multidisciplinary cultural projects and events. She studied psychology at Jagiellonian University. She is the author of four books of poetry: Po kostki w niebie [Ankle-Deep in Heaven] (2003), Czerwie [Maggots] (2012), Berlin Porn (2015), and mocne skóry białe płótna [firm skin white canvases]; three novels: Mężczyzna z kodem kreskowym [The Man with a Barcode] (2004), Jesień w Nowym Jorku [Autumn in New York] (2006), Loża [The Loge] (a novel about Helena Modjeska's American career); and a play: Projekt Ameryka [Project America] (2010). As a playwright, she has collaborated with the National Stary Theatre and Nowy Theatre in Krakow where she premiered her work Wężowisko [Snake’s Lair] about the rights of the LGBT community in Poland. She also participated in the international theater project “Krakow-Berlin XPRS”. In collaboration with the non-commercial art gallery Otwarta Pracownia, she is the artistic director of an independent theater group in Krakow and organizes cyclical events combining the visual arts and literature while integrating various artistic circles. Her drama Obcy. Tragedia grecka [Alien: A Greek Tragedy] was staged in Poland, Germany and at the Golden Lion International Theatre Festival in Lviv (Ukraine) as part of a project called "GAME OVER?: On Building Transnational relations between Poland, Germany and Ukraine" (2019). The drama Całe życie [All of Life] premiered in Krakow as part of the “A Hundred Years of Women’s Voices”. She has been a frequent guest at the Miłosz Festival and was the Jury Chairwoman of the 26th Rafał Wojaczek Polish National Poetry Competition. During the current pandemic, she has been organizing on-line literary and theater events. She actively participates in the fight for women's rights in Poland.
IGNACY CZWARTOS (born 1966) studied at Adam Mickiewicz University's Department of Art Education in Kalisz. He obtained his diploma in 1993 in the studio of Tadeusz Wolański. In 1995, he co-founded the OTWARTA PRACOWNIA [Open Workshop] Association and Gallery. Since January 2006, he has been the president of its board of management. Apart from painting, he draws illustrations for books and periodicals. In 2019, he was awarded the Silver Medal for Merit to Culture - Gloria Artis. He lives and works in Krakow.
