...autumn blues | final version
translated poem:
jesienny blues
-
Jarosław Pasztuła
looks in the windows
late at night like a dog
penetrates
through the body of the cold night
frost paints the glass
I hold red whiskey in my hand
soaked in tobacco
I'm letting go of the circles
the smoke dissolves into the ether
the needle slowly glides over the old record
the last leaves in the vase
fire fighting in the fireplace
warm to the feet
they walked far
perceptible distance
the smell of the room
in the light of the Indian salon
among the palms the candle dies out
poets don't write poems
they left here
pen paper left
empty glass
late at night like a dog
penetrates
through the body of the cold night
frost paints the glass
I hold red whiskey in my hand
soaked in tobacco
I'm letting go of the circles
the smoke dissolves into the ether
the needle slowly glides over the old record
the last leaves in the vase
fire fighting in the fireplace
warm to the feet
they walked far
perceptible distance
the smell of the room
in the light of the Indian salon
among the palms the candle dies out
poets don't write poems
they left here
pen paper left
empty glass
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