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The Happy High-Rise
The Happy High-Rise
First, it takes years to build a high-rise,
foundations, cellars, the soaring first floor.
Spring has come again to the wet fields.
In the pond by the road the crane is sinking
and the digger is sleepily puffing. But it grows,
ha!, it soars up, shoots for the stars.
It’s a pleasure to watch.
Then the day comes to connect
pipes and cables to the high-rise.
Later an antenna gets stuck on the roof,
and linoleum covers the boxy elevator.
At last it’s time to furnish the apartments:
“Marek” armchairs, ancestral stools,
captured wall-units.
At last the high-rise fills with people –
to each unit a mom and dad,
and as many kids and dogs
as desired.
Ah, the high-rise can be seen from afar,
seen from Wawelno, from Chmielowice,
perhaps even from Królewska Wieś.
It glitters with the scales of balconies
like a holiday carp.
The stairway winks
like Christmas lights.
For right now come the holidays.
All the neighbors have on their lips
all the
very best. It’s kissy-kissy
and after an awkward pause
everyone gets their present
of nylon socks.
And now they all get up
and take each other’s hands.
They engirdle the high-rise.
They dance in a circle.
Translated by Agata Miksa and David Malcolm