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ref.
this must be my day of birth
eyes wide open nanny get gone
no more suckling at any breast
no chance for taking backwards steps

and so I snatch at my pen so fragile
the one always needs tying down with chains
else it’ll tear it’ll kick and it’ll howl
though I am a poet please live and let live

for God for me for you
why muddy the self struggle in the dirt
why hike cross town on a bus in the freezing cold
when a friendly hand will help you just write

ref.
this must be my day of birth
a wild cur chasing me through town
no more clutching at stones
my fault in it somewhere too

I see Cerberus approaching
his mouth watering gnawing consuming
he who guards the border between men and beasts
the Styx runs with water, the world just full of itself

a cover and a title and a font
we play chess though you know nothing of the throne
you wanted to dance, and have danced, and now need to shut your mouth
this train rides on, its wheels blazing, smoke and sparks

ref.
this must be my day of birth
a cricket playing his fiddle for an age now
the shadow of melody swaying slow
hanging as if it were a stolen verse

weaving and cutting and pasting
after all, even a toy can be the form in question
all we have in anthologies every single friend and foe
we’re in charge while you only have your God

you only have silence on your side
so don’t dither round yourself up in unions
and pay dues and clap hands emigrate form a club
it wasn’t poetry the poet married today

and so to live and labour and lounge
yet all I have to do – is write
you can take rob hide or simply burn to the ground
though no one can strip the poet’s taste in rhymes.

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translated by Marek Kazmierski

download the text in English and Polish original pdf here