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Poetry

The Canine Sense of Smell

Dec 14, 2016 | By Ewa Lipska | Translated from Polish by Margret Grebowicz
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Poetry was extinguished
in its illiterate sleep.

Poetry was extinguished
in its illiterate sleep.

“The Haywain” by Hieronymus Bosch wobbles
across the earthly gallery.

A defeated angel
stands at the edge of the highway.
An engine steams.

The leadership leans

A mob blooms
on the shoulder.

The devil hands out
mp3 players.
He tempts us with music.

Divine satanic little arts.
Christ above the clouds.
A pilgrim on the road.

Between them the canine sense of smell
and a grave silence.

Author
Ewa Lipska

Ewa Lipska was born in 1945 in Kraków. She is a Polish poet from the generation of the Polish “New Wave.” Collections of her verse have been translated into English, Czech, Danish, Dutch, German, and Hungarian. She divides her time between Vienna and Kraków.

Author
Margret Grebowicz

Margret Grebowicz is a native speaker of Polish from Lódz. Her translations have appeared in Quarterly West, Literary Imagination, AGNI, Poetry International, FIELD, and elsewhere. She is associate professor of philosophy at Goucher College.