DOGS WILL BE MISSING US, poem by Tomasz Marek Sobieraj, Poland. Painting by Tom Higgins, UK

Tom Higgins' Dog

(painting by Tom Higgins, UK  –  http://allpoetry.com/Tom_Higgins)

_________________________________________________________

DOGS WILL BE MISSING US

 

An empty armchair in the corner of a room,

under the lamp; a table next to it,

glasses, books, phone,

some newspapers and a box of chequers lying on.

In front of the armchair, a dog is sitting.

He does not want to go up

and settle down comfortably, as the dogs

usually do. He looks. Waits.

Probably he thinks,

that this is just a new “disappearance” game,

a behaviour, in fact,

which is unworthy of a serious man;

another joke, as it was in the park,

when he climbed a tree and threw chestnuts.

The dog frowns, tilts his head,

sniffs the smell with his moist nose,

slightly moving his tail. He lies down

on the carpet, rests his head on his front legs,

struggles with the weight of his eyelids, after a while

falls into sleep; he barks,

runs after his master, is a little puppy,

pulls the cloth, and then falls

to that terrible puddle near the old oak.

And, of course, he chases the cat.

 

After a few dog’s dreams,

the glasses, books and chequers

disappear from the table.

The altar slowly

gets lost in the darkness. Then comes the winter.

And the dog still sits in front of the armchair

and waits.

___________________________________________________________________________

BĘDĄ ZA NAMI TĘSKNIĆ PSY

 

 

Pusty fotel w rogu pokoju,

pod lampą, obok stolik,

na nim okulary, książki, telefon,

parę gazet i pudełko z warcabami.

Przed fotelem siedzi pies. Nie chce wejść

i usadowić się wygodnie, jak to psy

mają w zwyczaju. Patrzy. Czeka.

Myśli pewnie,

że to jakaś nowa zabawa w znikanie,

zachowanie w gruncie rzeczy

niegodne poważnego człowieka,

kolejny żart, jak wtedy w parku,

gdy wszedł na drzewo i rzucał kasztanami.

Pies marszczy czoło, przekrzywia głowę,

wilgotnym nosem wciąga zapach,

lekko porusza ogonem. Kładzie się

na dywanie, opiera łeb na przednich łapach,

walczy z ciężarem powiek, po chwili

zapada w sen; szczeka,

biegnie za panem, jest małym szczeniakiem,

szarpie się ze ścierką, a potem wpada

do tej okropnej kałuży koło starego dębu.

No i oczywiście goni kota.

 

Po kilku psich snach

ze stolika znikają okulary,

książki, warcaby. Ołtarz powoli

ginie w mroku. Później przychodzi zima.

A pies nadal zasiada przed fotelem

i czeka.

 

http://tomaszmareksobieraj.blogspot.it/

https://pl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomasz_Sobieraj

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s