Sometimes the adventure starts late and completely unexpectedly, at 4:00 p.m. when you are moodily lying on the sofa. Then suddenly you want to eat something, but only in some beautiful place, far away, maybe on Lough Derg. Because it’s 90 km from Galway, where you’ve never been in your life.
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It does not matter that today is Sunday, we have to get up early, because two cats are waiting for us, and we mind of them over the weekend. The seagulls scream from five in the morning as if their white, and sea-scented feathers are being stripped off. But in the cat garden, petunias and bluebells wake up calmly.
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„We’re cosmonauts
Can I stay with you inside your brain
That way
We won’t be alone”
-so wrote Jamila Faber of Leeuwarden in the Netherlands in her poem. I discovered her, among other authors, in the album “Europe at Home”, where my text was also published.
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There is a world apart,
of elemental beauty carved by glacier,
where tiny wildflowers
pierce through limestone.
-a fragment of the poem The Breathing Burren by Maureen Grady.Continue reading
I longed for Tokio, even on snowing days, But look, a freezing, ragged beggar is leaning there on a wall in the backstreets what dream this man?
– a fragment of the poem by Hagiwara Sakutarō “A blue cat”.
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A woman over 40 s puts on sunny sneakers with a dress in raindrops. And a coat in the color of a Lisbon tenement house. Helena the hairdresser woke silver and copper paths on her head. One of them leads to the River Corrib.
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Where are they today, on what side, my favorite earrings? - The fire begins to die out, the poor girl wants to cry. And they don't know where and how - a great wind sprang up (…) And they don't know where and how - the oak leaves just fall, on the girls' lap leaf by leaf has fallen Girls will make aureate earrings from them. from the poem of Papusza "Leaf earings".
I was already very frustrated with my daily gallop due to the difficult experiences, and besides that, war broke out, and we can feel its exhalation also in distant Galway. I wanted to cry like the girl from the poem by Papusza because cloudy thoughts convinced me that I had lost something beautiful in my life. It was then that I signed up for the poetry workshop Snop of shadows led by the poet and prose writer Jacek Bierut. There was a winter poetry series online, a few one-day meetings. And I found myself in the last March class.
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A very sunny Sunday in Galway, the seagulls soar above the city. I slip through the streets like silence in the beads from Ukraine, I head to the central square of the city of Eyre Square. We are meeting here with the Ukrainians living in Galway for the afternoon vigil – to express our solidarity with Ukraine.
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To Ukraine
There is lead dawn at the Gate of the House. I wake up in Ukraine, the wind tickles the leaves and bends the beige grasses.
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I love to discover charming things in what seems to me well-knowing or ordinary. Sometimes I have an idea of something or someone in my head. But then life overthrows walls of my thinking and as if by magic or twisting Arabela’s ring, it takes me to a wonderful world, but this is the same world that I supposedly know. Where the raindrops like blue slides in a kaleidoscope form a Socratic sentence: I know that I know nothing.
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