'These are not good translations'

Polish poet Tadeusz Rozewicz is my current crush.

Last week, I was particularly taken by 'What Luck', in the 1976 collection Selected Poems, translated by Adam Czerniawski:


What luck I can pick
berries in the wood
I thought
there is no wood no berries.

What luck I can lie
in the shade of a tree
I thought trees
no longer give shade.

What luck I am with you
my heart beats so
I thought man
has no heart.

This past weekend, I picked up Unease, a 1980 collection of poems from ten different volumes, translated by Victor Contoski. Skimming through it as I walked along the street, I happened on 'How nice'


How nice. I can pick
berries in the wood
I thought
there are no wood no berries

How nice, I can lie
in the shade of a tree
I thought
now trees don't give shade.

How nice. I am with you
and my heart pounding
I thought
man has no heart.

And I thought: ugh. How nice? HOW NICE? Ugh.

And evidently, someone agreed with me