Grandma runs a shop selling religious souvenirs and
yesterday, for nothing at all, she gave me a Saint
Francis, fully aware that I have a little Jesus and
a Blessed Sister Faustina from the very same set.

This morning there was a Saint George, but he’s gone now,
he should be here soon after Sunday again
(and not just him…)—says Grandma to
people, and people often listen to her and respect her.

Around Friday heaven arrives; they no longer supply
hell (it stays on the shelf too long), but I’ve got
hell at home, as well as heaven and the saints. And, when

I get bored or sad, opposite I set out
heaven and hell. In heaven I place the ones
from Grandma. In hell a little pig, a sapper, and a diver.


Poetry80x100.jpg**Tadeusz Dąbrowski** is the author of five volumes of poetry, Wypieki, e-mail, mazurek, Te Deum, and Czarny kwadrat. This poem is from Black Square, a selection of poetry from his last two collections, translated into English by Antonia Lloyd-Jones. It will be available this spring from Zephyr Press.

**Antonia Lloyd-Jones** is a translator of Polish literature, including poetry, fiction, and reportage. Her recent translations include novels by Paweł Huelle and Olga Tokarczuk.

Translator’s Recommendations:

The Mighty Angel by Jerzy Pilch.

Lovetown by Michal Witkowski.

The Forgotten Keys by Tomasz Rozycki.


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