From My Commonplace Book - 2

The Festival
by Miroslav Holub

At the festival of patients
with all the known diseases
the crutch choir sings
for the pacemakers.

The double astigmatic landscape
gratefully swallows the murmurs
of the mitral valve.

In the candlelit college hall
corticosteroids anoint psoriases.

In the pavillion of intensive care
fish with fish skin disease
are given artificial respiration.

But in fact
we bubble with joy
like fish in a fish tank,

that all this torment
at least has a name.


Translated by David Young and Dana Hobova.

Comments

Thanks, Brown-eyed Girl. I like the last two stanzas - the joy of having a name for our torment.
 
what an intriguing poem...given the problems with the name - and how nice it would be to have a better one.
 

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