permission from
| POET'S CORNER Jerzy Liebert (1904-1931) This week we look at a young Polish poet from Częstochowa, Jerzy Liebert, who was destined to die tragically young. When the hand of death strikes a young talent, one always thinks of his untapped potential, his latent creativity never to be revealed. Of course there are occasions when the world manages to glimpse burgeoning talent before it is cut cruelly short. We are lucky that Liebert's poetry survives, in three collections: A Second Homeland (Druga ojczyzna, 1925), Witchcraft (Gusła, 1930) and Fir Tree Lullaby (Kołysanka jodłowa, published posthumously in 1932). Liebert studied Polish literature at Warsaw University, but was forced to abandon studies due to a bout of tuberculosis. Despite his poor health he worked for the academic journal Pamiętnik Warszawski. Eventually drained by the debilitating illness, he took the advice of friends and sought convalescence in the Huculszczyzna region of the Carpathian Mountains. But his condition only worsened, and his weakened body gave up the ghost just short of his 27th birthday. Liebert was a deeply religious young man, and given his state of health, we should not wonder that his poetry attempted to determine, in personal terms, the prospect of his imminent death within the deepest essence of the Catholic world view. His poetry, as we may see in the following poem, boasts highly imaginative and enigmatic imagery. The poem is a beatific vision of the Nativity inspired by the poet's presence at Christmas Eve midnight mass. The creatures of the world sense the birth of Christ and make their way to the humble stable to pay homage. Tranquillity abounds; birds chirp abroad in the night and animals silently tread their pilgrim way. The proud Eastern peacocks have flown from afar to wonder at the resplendent sight of a chorus of winged angels. Nature's response to Jesus's birth is an expression of selfless and unconditional joy. However, the little child is intent from the outset to secure man's salvation and expectantly awaits the arrival of the human race's first representative, even while being cradled in the loving bosom of his parents. MIDNIGHT MASS ON CHRISTMAS EVE Birds, like nimble bells, celebrate with a caroling call, Jesus Christ is born, new days have begun for all. Mother deer from the riverbank and limpid lake shore Journey to the Bethlehem stable to gaze and adore. A squirrel grins toothily and heaven looks down from above Like a celestial blue shield with two swimming doves, And flowers, despite the wintry time, frost and cold, Bring forth myrrh, frankincense and chalices of gold. Peacocks have flown here from exotic foreign lands To compare feathers with the wings of angelic bands. And the sad Christ child waits looking towards the portal, Expectant to see, among the assembly, the presence of a mortal... Introduction and translation by Barry Keane |
| Reproduced with permission from | |
| Click on the logo for current issue of Poland's English language weekly |