I fight
by Marta Rakoczy
transl. by Ryszard P. Kostecki
(with some corrections suggested by Daniel Ranard)
To have a zeal in my own silence,
forged by modest stoutheartedness,
is the green summit in feeling,
the shield of heaven and the armour of my awakenings.
Because I defend myself against entanglement
among actions, among thoughts, which like to play human,
among the wingless flutter,
without real air,
the puff of a crystal.
Because I do not want to suffocate,
in my own temples.
I will be raising opened hands,
to remember myself in a short moment
within the colonnade of clouds,
to twitch with the constellation’s chord.
I want to smash windows, with humility,
in myself, in the heart.
To let the stone, the tree,
the fulfilment of grain,
and the noise of spoken words
to barge in.
I am knocking out the window
in the name of the stained glass,
which is able to be translucent,
wear the humble transparency,
the timbre donated to light,
not its own.