Petr Král: Memory of a Poem-Excursion

One of my most successful poems concerned my striking dislike for poetry
in the poem I only went to be sick upon the poets' graves
the poem even predicted explicitly the result of someone finding it out
how they would drag me out of the text and leave it uninhabited
at least until they sent me to Jilemnice in place of my friend Šebek
sending him here to Strašnice to finish off my work
meanwhile in the poem something’s naturally altered the word shit is replaced
by the word violin the word coffeehouse by barracks
pleasure by the word castration the word back-side by book
the word book by sausage
even the word egg by egg
the word morass already itself so debt-laden rapidly collapses into itself
becoming scarcely recognisable
bent over the word mirror
itself replaced by the word shit

Disgustedly I turned away from shit I grabbed a sausage
and began to read
too late
the sausage was left in the stubble of last year's autumn
in vain I awaited the coming of July and still nothing but by Jilemnice all around
likewise the letters of my name had been replaced by others
I walked about here but recognised nothing
I tried to describe at least those some I met in the sunlight
in the middle of the square their shrill distinguished hats
the burgeoning gravestones on their heads
I bashed away at the typewriter keys with all my might
in vain
the word square remained quite desolate

I bash out finally midnight
but read:    noon I only see myself once more as I obstinately
fidget at the beginning
fidget and haplessly gaze as in place of the existing noon
abruptly intrudes itself the old familiar word unhappiness


(1967)

Translated by James Naughton