Gałczyński - humorous and delicate poet

[Bonobo]

Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński (January 23, 1905 - December 6, 1953), alias Karakuliambro, was a Polish poet. He is well-known for the 'paradramatic' absurd humorous sketches of Green Goose Theatre.

Read about him:
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Konstanty_Ildefons_Ga%C5%82czy%C5%84ski



Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński


Pieśń o żołnierzach z Westerplatte

Kiedy się wypełniły dni
i przyszło zginąć latem,
prosto do nieba czwórkami szli
żołnierze z Westerplatte.
(A lato było piękne tego roku)

I tak śpiewali: Ach, to nic,
że tak bolały rany,
bo jakże słodko teraz iść
na te niebieskie polany.
(A na ziemi tego roku było tyle
wrzosu na bukiety)

W Gdańsku staliśmy tak jak mur,
gwiżdżąc na szwabską armatę,
teraz wznosimy się wśród chmur,
żołnierze z Westerplatte.

I śpiew słyszano taki: - By
słoneczny czas wyzyskać,
będziemy grzać się w cieple dni
na rajskich wrzosowiskach.

Lecz gdy wiatr zimny będzie dął
i smutek krążył światem,
w środek Warszawy spłyniemy w dół,
żołnierze z Westerplatte.




Song of the soldiers of Westerplatte.

And when their time has come at last
to die in summer weather,
they marched to heaven four abreast,
the soldiers of Westerplatte.

(and the summer was lovely that year)

And thus they sang: it’s no big thing
all these our wounds and pain,
how sweet it is to enter in
the heaven’s verdant plain.

(and on earth that year there was
so much heather for bouquets)

In Gdansk we stood firm as a wall,
the German guns - small matter,
above the clouds ascend we all
the soldiers of Westerplatte.

And we such singing hear, that we
exploiting the sunny weather,
shall bask in noonday’s gentle heat
on paradisial heather.

But when cold winter’s wind shall blow
and gloom the world embitter,
We into Warsaw’s heart shall float,
the soldiers of Westerplatte.

The translator is Marcel Weyland (Sydney)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------




Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński

(1905 - 1953)



Pieśń o fladze

Jedna była - gdzie? Pod Tobrukiem.
Druga była - hej! Pod Narvikiem.
Trzecia była pod Monte Cassino,

A każda jak zorza szalona,
biało-czerwona, biało-czerwona!

czerwona jak puchar wina,
biała jak gwiezdna lawina,
biało-czerwona.

Zebrały się nocą flagi.
Flaga fladze dodaje odwagi:
- No, no, nie bądź taka zmartwiona.

Nie pomogą i moce piekła:
jam ciebie, tyś mnie urzekła,

nie zmogą cię bombą ni złotem
i na zawsze zachowasz swą cnotę.

I nigdy nie będziesz biała,
i nigdy nie będziesz czerwona,

zostaniesz biało-czerwona
jak wielka zorza szalona,

czerwona jak puchar wina,
biała jak śnieżna lawina,
najukochańsza, najmilsza,
biało-czerwona.

Tak mówiły do siebie flagi
i raz po raz strzelił karabin,
zrobił dzirę w czerwieni i w bieli.

Lecz wołały flagi: - Nie płaczcie!
Choćby jeden strzępek na maszcie,
nikt się zmienić barw nie ośmieli.
Zostaniemy biało-czerwone,
flagi święte, flagi szalona,
nie spoczniemy biało-czerwone,

czerwone jak puchar wina,
białe jak śnieżna lawina,
biało-czerwone.

O północy przy zielonych stolikach
modliły się diabły do cyfr.
Były szarfy i ordery, i muzyka
i stukał tajny szyfr.

Diabły w sercu swoim głupim, bo niedobrym
rozwiązywały biało-czerwony problem.

Łkała flaga: - Czym powinna
zginąć, bo jestem inna?
Bo nie taka... dyplomatyczna,
ta od mgieł i od tkliwej rozpaczy,
i od serca, które nic nie znaczy,
flaga jak ballada Szopenowska,
co ją tkała sama Matka Boska.

Ale wtedy przyszła dziewczyna
i uniosła flagę wysoko,
hej, wysoko, ku samym obłokom!
Jeszcze wyżej, gdzie się wszystko zapomina

jeszcze wyżej, gdzie jest tylko sława
i Warszawa, moja Warszawa!

Warszawa jak piosnka natchniona,
Warszawa biało-czerwona,

czerwona jak puchar wina
białą jak śnieżna lawina
biało-czerwona,
biało-czerwona,
Ohej, biało-czerwona.


Song of the flag

One had been where - At Tobruk.
Another - hey! at Narvik.
The third – at Monte Cassino.

And each an aurora berserk,
white-and-red, white-and-red!

red, as a chalice of wine,
white, as a starry snow storm,
white-and-red.

One dark night the three of them met.
One gives heart to the others: - Don’t fret,
no, do not now droop so dejected.

We shall not be destroyed by hell’s fires,
we shall each other inspire.

No bomb nor gold ever shall hurt you
and always you’ll hold to your virtue.

And you will be never all-white,
and you will never be red,

white-and-red shall stay ever your colour,
like a tempestuous aurora,

red, like a wine-chalice red,
white, like a snowstorm wide-spread,
ever beloved and dearest,
this white and this red.

Thus spoke the flags, one to the other
then came shots – one after another,
and the red and the white they pierced through.

But cried out the flags: - Do not weep!
Though one little rag’s all you keep,
none shall dare to change either hue.
We shall remain white-and-red,
flags holy, tempestuously mad,
we shall not rest, white-and-red,

red, like a wine-chalice red,
white, like a snowstorm wide-spread,
white-and-red.


While at midnight, seated at a green table,
some devils were praying to numbers;
There were ribands, and orders, and drummers,
and secret codes’ babble.

In their hearts, bad and stupid, the goblins
were solving the red-and-white problem.

Sobbed a flag:- Why should I be condemned
to die, because different from them?
Because not so… diplomatic,
she of mists and of tender despair,
with a heart, which means nothing here,
the flag like a ballade of Chopin,
by the Mother of God herself woven.

But then a girl came up walking,
and lifted the flag o so high,
hey so high beyond clouds in the sky!
Even higher, where all things are forgotten

and yet higher, where fame’s dwelling only,
and Warsaw, my Warsaw lovely!

Warsaw, a song that arouses,
Warsaw, white, and red like roses.

red, like a wine-chalice red,
white, like a snowstorm wide-spread,
white-and-red,
white-and-red,
o hey, white-and-red.


tłumaczył/translated by:



Marcel Weyland (Sydney)
[e-mail]

[tufta]

[Bonobo]

The Green Goose Theatre
Among Gałczyński's best known works are the satirical mini-pieces of the Green Goose Theatre ("Teatrzyk Zielona Gęś"). Several hundred of these ostensible dramas, usually only a few lines long, appeared in the Kraków literary journal Przekrój.[1] They frequently parody serious drama and cultural icons – in Hamlet and the Waitress, Hamlet is unable to choose between coffee and tea in a café and expires from indecision to be buried in a coffin marked HAMLET IDIOT, while in Greedy Eve Adam fails to get a bite of the apple, causing the entire Bible to be "a total loss".[2] The final curtain is frequently brought into the action, being variously scripted as falling "optimistically", as coming down accidentally and then going up again, or as being lowered by an anteater.


Old article from 2013

"Monty Python's style skits, interludes and the tiniest plays in the world" by one of Poland’s most beloved popular poets, Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński, is staged at the Ambassador Theater, paying hommage to late, great scholar Daniel Gerould.

The Little Theatre of The Green Goose is a collection of pieces written by Konstanty Ildefons Galczynski (1905-53), one of Poland's most beloved poets. After the Second World War, he began work as a playwright, inventing a colourful theatre troupe of performers both animal and human and contributing a new installment of The Little Theatre of the Green Goose each week to Przekrój, the Kraków literary magazine. Intended for reading only, The Green Goose went unperformed in Gałczynski's life. Finally staged in 1955, it gained a permanent place in the theatre and became influential in the creation of innovative new Polish drama flourishing in the 1960s.

Announced as a series of "Monty Python’s style skits, interludes and the tiniest plays in the world", The Little Theater of the Green Goose is now staged at the Ambassador Theatre in Washington, D.C., directed by Hanna Bondarewska and Stephen Shetler. The piece is shown as part of the theatre’s hommage to Daniel Gerould, who passed away on the 13th of February 2012.

Professor Gerould was an expert in Polish theatre, a prolific translator and an unparalleled propagator of Polish playwrights in the U.S.

He was an erudite scholar of the first rank, but often he did not write about "the overexposed and universally celebrated" but rather, as he mentions in his final essay collection, Quick Change, "the underrated, the ignored, and the forgotten". His work on the history and practice of theatre not only expanded, but literally re-shuffled the world theatre map, introducing such crucial figures as Witkacy, whose works went from obscurity to classics of the avant-garde. Gerould is responsible for most English-language translations of Witkacy’s works, including plays, essays on art and theory, as well as his letters. All theatre performances of Witkacy in the U.S. - and there were over twenty from 1966-76 alone - were based on Gerould's translations. His energy and intellectual curiosity resulted in the translations of other Polish writers as well: Mrożek, Stanisława Przybyszewska (together with his wife, Jadwiga Kosicka), and poetry from the Green Goose Cabaret in Kraków.

French literature and culture was the professor’s initial area of interest, and later he discovered Russian theatre. When he came to Poland for the first time, in the summer of 1965, he spoke only Russian and French, in addition to English. It was when he was shown the plays of Stanisław Ignacy Witkiewicz (Witkacy) in the drawer of Jerzy Sokołowski, a Polish Ministry of Culture official, that his love affair with Poland and Polish culture began. Gerould mastered Polish so well that no one meeting him for the first time would suspect that Polish was not his mother tongue, but his third foreign language.

From that time, he devoted himself fully to Polish theatre and Witkacy. In the U.S. and elsewhere, he became an ambassador of Polish theatre and culture. Thanks to Daniel Gerould, there is no serious student of theatre in the U.S. who does not know about Witkiewicz, Witold Gombrowicz, Tadeusz Kantor, Jerzy Grotowski, Sławomir Mrożek and Tadeusz Różewicz. Professor Gerould constantly expanded that list, adding to it the names of young playwrights and directors such as Dorota Masłowska or Przemysław Wojcieszek.

In the introduction to the English edition of the Little Theatre of the Green Goose, Daniel Gerould commented:

'Delight in nonsense has its roots in the feeling of freedom we enjoy when we are able to abandon the straightjacket of logic,' writes Freud. A great master of nonsense, Gałczyński offers that feeling of freedom to both readers and theatre-goers.

culture.pl/en/event/the-little-theatre-of-the-green-goose-in-the-us







Check out one poem

rybki-niepoetyckietlumaczenia.blogspot.com/2010/11/152-konstanty-ildefons-gaczynski.html

152. Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński, kabaret Potem– The Poetry Goes Up

Apart from “Enchanted Droshky” (“Zaczarowana dorożka”), “The Green Goose Theatre” (“Teatrzyk Zielona Gęś”) is probably the most famous work by Gałczyński, being a cycle of little dramas or skits. Published first in 1946, the green geese, as each skit was called by the author, were full of absurd humour. They were also satires on different human faults and contemporary life.
Gałczyński were also sensitive to slogans, which were frequently slipped into the geese or even comprised the entire structure of a skit. That was the case of “the dreary panorama on the subject of ‘The Poetry Goes Up’” where the imperative to read books was ridiculed. Although the idea is very simple, it brilliantly fits to the realities of post-war and Polish People’s Republic period where the shortage of necessities and endless queues in shops were very common. The struggle to gain something to eat was changed by Gałczyński into the struggle to gain something to read.
Verbal humour is also in abundance in Gałczyński’s geese, therefore some explanations are necessary.
The kabaret Potem interpretations of the skits (the cabaret had staged many more of the geese) does not exactly tally with the original, but the performance is undoubtedly brilliant.
The text comes from galczynski.kulturalna.com/a-6826.html. The words in square brackets are the changes made by kabaret Potem.

Teatrzyk Zielona Gęś

The Green Goose Theatre

ma zaszczyt przedstawić

proudly presents

ponurą panoramę dźwiękową/[racławicką]

the dreary (sound) panorama [of the Battle of Racławice]

na temat

on the subject of

„Poezja drożeje”

‘The Poetry Goes Up’



W roli głównej:

Starring:

Pies Fafik (bilety ulgowe i passe-partout nieważne)

The main part: Fafik the Dog (invalid concessionary tickets and pass for all shows)


Pozostałe osoby: Stroskany Piekielny Piotruś

the Worried Dreadful Peter


Stroskany Ojciec

the Worried Father


Stroskana Matka

the Worried Mother


& Chór stroskanych starców

and the Choir of Worried old men.


Meteorologia: trzaskający upał.

The weather: crackling heat.


Scena: Nieopalone mieszkanie. Zegar bez wskazówek. Nędza (i głód w sensie intelektualnym).

The scene: cold flat. A clock without hands. Poverty (and hunger in the intellectual meaning).


Czas: Obojętny. Nie śpieszy się.

The time: irrelevant. Not in a hurry.


Akcja:

Action:


Fafik:

Fafik:


Książka to najlepszy przyjaciel. A ja znowu nie mam co czytać. Z moimi okularami na końcu nosa wyglądam jak słynna ciotka Eupalinosa. Ale zdaje się, że nadchodzi matka. Czy jednak przyniesie coś do czytania? Życie bez książki jest jak stół bez nóg.

The book is the best friend*. But again I have nothing to read. With my glasses on the tip of my nose I look like the famous Eupalinos’ aunt. But it seems the mother is approaching. Will she bring anything to read? Life without a book is like a table without legs**.

*) Note: it is the dog who changes the well-known proverb ‘a dog is man’s best friend’.
**) A reference to the well-known Polish tongue twister: stół z powyłamywanymi nogami /stuw s pɔvɨwamɨvanɨmi nɔɡami/ ‘a table with broken legs’. Children frequently change it into a much simpler form of the same meaning stół bez nóg /stuw bɛz nuk/.



Piekielny Piotruś:

The Dreadful Peter:
Fafik ma rację. Matka nadchodzi. Ale czy przyniesie coś do czytania? W kwiecie wieku umrę z głodu intelektualnego. Dlaczego?

Fafik is right. The mother is coming. But will she bring anything to read? I am going to die of intellectual cravings in the prime of my life. Why?



Stroskany Ojciec:

The Worried Father:


Jak nie mam mojej poezji do łóżka, to po prostu idiocieję. (Idiocieje na stronie). Ale zdaje się, że istotnie nadchodzi matka. Kto wie, może przyniesie wreszcie coś do czytania.

Without my poetry reading in bed I simply go goofy. (Goes goofy on the side). But indeed the mother is approaching. Maybe she will finally bring something to read.


Stroskana Matka:

The Worried Mother:


(wpada zdyszana) Poezje znowu zdrożały na czarnym rynku. Ale nie martwcie się. Spekulantów poezjami zamkną. Tymczasem dzisiejszą noc jakoś przetrzymamy. W spółdzielni „Lutnia i spółka” dostałam jedną/[ostatnią] stroniczkę z tomiku pt. „Ptaszki spod paszki” Antoniego Franbolli. (czyta triumfalnie)

(rushes breathless) The poems again went up on the black market. But don’t worry. The poem profiteers will be locked up. Anyway, we will endure somehow tonight. In the Lute & co. cooperative, I got this one/[last] page from the volume entitled ‘The Birdies from Armpities’ by Anthony Franbolly. (reads exultantly)


„Ptaszki spod paszki”

‘The Birdies from Armpities’.


Do Bani

For Crap


„Od godziny w Luwrze

‘For an hour now in the Louvre


ja mówię do Bani: – Mówże!

I am talking: Crap, speak you!


a Bania: – Co? A Bania: – Ba...”

And Crap: What? And Crap: Well…’


Pauza

Pause



Stroskany Ojciec:

The Worried Father:


Dlaczego przerywasz, do cholery?

Why have you stopped for God’s sake?


Stroskana Matka:

The Worried Mother:


Bo tu jest wielokropek.

Because of the suspension points.



Stroskany Ojciec:

The Worried Father:


Dalej!

Go on!


Stroskana Matka:

The Worried Mother:


„...A Bania: – Ba...

‘And Crap: Well…


Paryż. Bania. I ja.

Paris. Crap. And I.


I ja mówię: – Niedobraś

And I am saying: Unfriendly are you


jak selery i ja, i pory

like an aurora and I, and carnivora***,

***) In the original, literally there is ‘like celery, and I, and leeks’.
i ja mógłbym cię oblać,

and I may douse you,
bo ja jestem podobny do amfory”.

for I resemble an amphora.’
Pauza. To, niestety, wszystko, co dostałam na całą rodzinę.

Pause. Unfortunately, that’s all what I got for the whole family.


Fafik:

Fafik:


Wobec tego jeszcze raz.

In that case once again.


Stroskana Matka:

The Worried Mother


(czyta jeszcze raz) „Od godziny w Luwrze mówię do Bani...”

(Reads once again) ‘For an hour now in the Louvre, I am talking: Crap…’


Stroskany Ojciec:

The Worried Father


Jaka bania? Nic nie rozumiem. Ja zidiocieję! (idiocieje)

What a Crap? I don’t understand a thing. I will go goofy! (Goes goofy)


Stroskana Matka:

The Worried Mother


(przestaje czytać i pod wpływem nieczytania upada kulturalnie i również idiocieje)

(Stops reading and because she does not read, she decline culturally and goes goofy as well)


Piekielny Piotruś i Fafik:

The Dreadful Peter and Fafik:


(jak wyżej)

(as above)


Stroskany Ojciec:

The Worried Father


(wybucha w związku z ogólnym upadkiem kulturalnym) Zaznaczam, że zidiociałem kompletnie. (idiocieje kompletnie na oczach PT. Publiczności i ponuro wali się na kanapę)

(Bursts out due to common cultural decline). I must emphasize that I have totally gone goofy. (Goes goofy in front of the Audience’s eyes and grimly collapses on the sofa)


KURTYNA

The CURTAIN


Chór Starców:

The Choir of Worried old men


(za kurtyną)

(behind the curtain)


My śpiewamy, a nas nie widać

Here we’re singing, but you cannot see,


I stąd płynie wiele goryczy.

This cup of bitterness is ours,


Bo z tego, jak widać, widać,

And so, what can be seen is seen,


Że nikt się z nami nie liczy.

That everybody ignore us

[Bonobo]

www.kigalczynski.pl/english/wiersze/zaczarowana_dorozka.html?p=_wi


THE ENCHANTED CARRIAGE

(ZACZAROWANA DOROŻKA)

To Natalia —
who is the lamp of the Enchanted Carriage


I
Allegro

Arthur will surely confess
I swear, that I don’t lie,
But six words, no more, no less
Were contained in that wire:
ENCHANTED CARRIAGE
ENCHANTED COACHMAN
ENCHANTED HORSE.

According to Ben Ali,
The wizard of Krakow town,
“It is really nothing
To enchant a coach alone,

Using a special brooch
Shine into the coachman face
And here comes the coach
Enchanted with a man.

But not a horse.” So I ask:
“Hello, master Ben Ali?
Is it possible with a nag?”
“No, they told you a lie.”

I trembled. The night forlorn,
The postman stood like a string
And my hair grew all along
To reach a firmament dim.
ENCHANTED CARRIAGE?
ENCHANTED COACHMAN?
ENCHANTED HORSE?

Dismay. Head. Heart’s in pain.
And beyond the curtains, far

Rooftops in silvery rain
Reflect stars, big and small
Below leaves on the wind
Rustle in my misty head.

What had happened to me?
Could I possibly forget?

Did I plan a trip out of town
To make my thoughts clear?
Coachman was waiting and drowned
In some illusive dream
And they all enchanted him:
Ben Ali, and the night and the wind.
ENCHANTED CARRIAGE
ENCHANTED COACHMAN
ENCHANTED HORSE.


II
Allegro sostenuto

In the labyrinth of Krakow streets,
I was led by Arthur and Ronard,
It wasn’t easy, ’cause there was so much bliss
And the night was mad and high-flown,
As we were wandering through the whole Krakow by night:


III
Allegretto


Nightly BIRDS STUFFED,
nightly TYPING CLASSES,
nightly SUNDAY MASSES,
nightly MACBETH TODAY,
nightly FRENCH UNDERWEAR,

nightly STREET CAR, nightly COFFIN,
nightly choir LET THE WORLD SING,

nightly BUTCHER, nightly BARBER,
nightly TASTY APPETIZERS,

nightly DANCE SCHOOL FOR ALL,
nightly BAKER, nightly GROCERY STORE,

nightly mark: BY THE CHURCH!
And the countless night-veiled signs

My devoted nightly friends,
Eternal wind, eternal night.


IV
Allegro ma non troppo

We reached “At the Negroes” place I so admire
(O, I could give my life for this house after all!)
And look: exactly how it was in the wire:
Exactly in the front of the Sukiennice hall:
ENCHANTED CARRIAGE
ENCHANTED COACHMAN
ENCHANTED HORSE.
From Mariacka Tower light poured through the mist.
And the horse, imagine, had protruding ears.


V
Allegro cantabile

His mane and his tail are of the pure white,
A girl in the carriage, a sailor by her side.

Wind blows in the mane and in her veil
The carriage floats to the wedding, like a sail.

The sailor betrayed this girl like a knave
And was looking for some port to escape,
But somewhere he was swallowed by a whale.

The girl finally died burned out by love
And her longing wanders in a stardust rove,

But love itself is a mighty drive,
It joined their hands after their life.

And now, the carriage slowly glides
In their last trip — the groom and the bride
To some old chapel in some forgotten place.

And there, like in a beautiful old song,
Some bishop unites their hands with a stole,
The holy father with a moon’s face.

Night sings a love song for the pair,
But morning wipes out the stars away,

And through the old, ancient gate,
Through the carvings in the stone
Everything ceases slowly, fades
Forever all the miracles are gone:
ENCHANTED CARRIAGE
ENCHANTED COACHMAN
ENCHANTED HORSE.


VI
Allegro furioso alla polacca


In an old tavern, on a forgotten street
Where all the coachmen finally meet
The “Dancing Jumbo” waltz flows.
Pickles are waiting in the jars
Starry beer in the mugs shines
And the bubbling foam overflows.
And master Onoszko speaks sincere:
“As long as we are all gathered here
As long as coach is a coach,
Shaft is a shaft and horse is a horse,
As long as waters of Vistula are flown,
In every village, in every town
There will be always, always viable
Maybe the last one, the less comfortable:

ENCHANTED CARRIAGE
ENCHANTED COACHMAN
ENCHANTED HORSE.”

1946

[© English translation 2010-2021, M. Gałczyński]