A Green Lowland of Pianos

I spent the day visiting the Carvaggio exhibition (interesting, but not unmissable), so I’ve got nothing to say.

Thus, I’ll turn the blog over to a poet. In this case, Polish surrealist Jerzy Harasymowicz (pronounced, approximately, yair-zhuh Hara-suh-movitch, according to my friend Kamila).

A Green Lowland of Pianos

by Jerzy Harasymowicz

In the evening
as far as the eye can see
of black pianos

up to the knees
in the mire
they listen to the frogs

they gurgle in water
with chords of rapture

they are entranced
by froggish, moonish spontaneity

after the vacation
they cause scandals
in the concert halls
during the artistic milking
suddenly they lie down
like cows

looking with indifference
at the white flowers
of the audience

at the gesticulating
of the ushers

[Source: Postwar Polish Poetry, Czeslaw Milosz, ed.]

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