Souvenir
She did not want
anything that she knew
to remain behind the foggy veil.
She had no strength
to cry out for help.
She had no strength at all.
When she woke up,
stood over her
an old, stooping man.
He whispered:
Don't worry, you'll live.
I took the bullet out of you,
it was for people like me.
If you allow, I will keep it
as a souvenir.
- Are you a Jew?
- I was born a man,
they speak of me as the old Jew.
Eliza Segiet
Eliza Segiet graduated
with a Master's Degree in Philosophy, completed postgraduate studies
in Cultural Knowledge, Philosophy, Arts and Literature at Jagiellonian
University, as well as Film and Television Production in Lodz.
Translated by Artur Komoter from the Polish.
Tags:
Poetry