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I come home from work with Marta and Wiktor, the road is illuminated by the sun, and the minutes are alive by Wierd Fishes, the song of RADIOHEAD. Pretty soon I get off at Tesco and run through the narrow streets to my hairdresser Helena. After an hour, I leave with an artistically tousled haircut that I love. I feel blissful and drop into Marks & Spencer, where I get an orange facial wash and sage to sprinkle my afternoon toasts. But I have no idea, that I’ll read poems by John Keats English Romantic poet. Because when I enter my apartment, there is a package from Baśka, waiting for me. The book with poems together with Jane Campion’s film “Bright Star”.

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon (...)

from "Endymion". 

I haven’t read poems in such a sensual and plastic form for a long time. I step on those verses as if on a velvet fabric, pink or sometimes black.

The poet John Keats climbs a blossoming apple tree and lies down on its spreading branches and delicate white-pink flowers. He stays there for half a day staring at the sky. Poems that have a fragrant and flavor fly over his head.

Meanwhile, a fly falls into the milk jug. Because the moments of happiness that the poet tries to catch, are very fragile.

But when the melancholy fit shall fall
Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,
That fosters the droop-headed flowers all


- from Ode to Melancholy.

My joy disappears the very next day. Fear leaves a dark curtain. But on Friday afternoon the light comes back on again.

John Keats wrote remarkably and maturely for his young age.

And his life was short and during his life he was sharply criticized, ridiculed, and nobody wanted his poetry books. Except for Fanny Brawne, the girl who fell in love with him. Jane Campion made a movie about their relationship: “Bright Star”.

Meanwhile, Keats knew his talent. At the age of 25, he died of tuberculosis. After his death named the poet of poets.

The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake… to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought.

Poetry soothes and encourages the soul to come to terms with the mystery. His life was an immersion into seconds and minutes. There is some joy in walking slowly through the silence of this plain (…) – he wrote.

I am sitting on the sofa, my legs are covered with a blanket, and the cat is dozing on them, his long whiskers twitching slightly. I’m typing this post on my phone. The smell of spring rain creeps in through the open window. I’m melting a piece of chocolate in my mouth while the crow caws loudly and the fridge hums softly.