Poems by Alicja Maria Kuberska
For many centuries, the cold waters of the oceans flooded the ice bridge
And old Asia has forgotten about the existence of a new land – America.
Frosts and the white desert blocked the trails of human migrations.
Those, who passed, went towards the Sun and greenery.
There is silence, as the tramp of buffalo herds passed and the dust settled.
The slender tents disappeared and winds have blown fumes from the campfires.
Now golden ears of wheat reign on the vast plains
And blusterous plumes of corn conquer the landscape.
Nothing is left of the past.
The times of brave warriors are gone irrevocably
Although the stone arrowheads are still stuck in the ground
And ancient songs are humming by a few old men with eagle features.
Manitou abandoned the prairie and left his brave people.
The Indians learned the taste of failure, the bitterness of new life.
They vegetate trapped in the vapors of alcohol – the gift of a white man.
History added a new chapter when integration was closed in reservations.
Eyes of stone and an
Which beats rhythmically…
I only I – I only I.
It is better not to see
And not to sympathize.
Poverty is ugly,
Foul and fetid,
And sometimes drunk.
The easiest thing is to pass it by
– It is not my business
– I have no time.
I looked deeply into the eyes of a beggar
And they told me his story.
The book of life is not closed.
It describes mistakes and failures at the beginning,
Then the monotonous days,
Struggling to survive in a hostile world.
The streets are like a swamp
They draw in and do not let go.
They promise nothing.
They provide only rarely.
He must drift on the surface of existence
On a raft built from old cartons.
Rushing cars honk loudly.
Passers-by mutter disapprovingly.
Only sometimes, someone
Throws a few coins into the tin box.