A new poem from Adam Zagajewski is always an occasion, and this one, blessedly, Threepenny Review put up for all to see:
Out Walking with My Father
Grunwald Square, Gliwice
My father remembers next to nothing. With slight exceptions.
Do you remember fixing transmitters for the Home Army?
Of course I remember. Were you afraid?
I don’t remember. Was Mother afraid? I don’t know.
The garden on Piaskowa Street? Sure.
The scent of linden blossoms? No.
Do you remember Mr. Romer? Sometimes.
Skiing on Czantoria Mountain? I guess not.
Do you remember infinity? No, I don’t.
But I’ll see it soon. (He could say that.)
—Adam Zagajewski
(translated from the Polish by Clare Cavanagh)
Kit Stolz 