Yalta, translated

My translation of 'Jałta' by Jacek Kaczmarski.

Like new tsars' residence,
Servants know their duties,
Far were the Tatars resettled,
From where the world is judged.

Widows now see, the walls listen
How coughs with his cigar the Lion,
How squeks the wheelchair pushed
with broken Democrat inside.

But nobody sees and nobody hears,
Highlander's doings in Crimean night,
When with faithful comrades' gesture
He speaks with his legandary power.

Don't blame Stalin,
He was not pulling the strings,
It was not his fault,
That Rooslvelt in Jałta had no strenght.
When the triumvirate together formed
the history of the world,
- It's obvious who played the Ceasar's role
and such is the truth behind Jałta.

In the weak light of cigar's butt
Floated the face of Albion's lion:
Let's not talk about the Baltic,
Why would Europe need so many states?

Poles? - after all there is just the matter
that they have to live somewhere...
Poland, it was always trouble...
The Cripple cares and shakes.

But sooths them master of the house,
Stroking his yellowish moustache:
My country will lend them a helping hand,
Later they can do what they want.

Don't blame Churchill,
He was not pulling the strings,
After all, the triumvirate was only there
So Stalin would get what he desired.
Who values peace,
Will always back out of the fight -
Win will the one who fears not the wars
And such is the truth behind Jałta.

The palace's walls strain to hear
When to the Cripple speaks the Lion -
- I believe in Stalin's thruthful words
He seems to care for Soviet's blood.

And so the Cripple nods to that,
Unbroken guardian of democracy
Stalin, he's the man of the century
The men of state, the leader!

As alliance of great ones, it's not a cabal
It's the world's future - freedom, order -
With them, the weak will survuve,
And receive his share... of losses.

Don't blame Roosvelt,
Think what he had to endure!
Pipe, cigar's smoke and bottle,
Churchill, who cared not for alliances.
After all, three empires talked
about the borders, unclear ones:
- and in the details, Beria lied,
And such is the truth behind Jałta.

So delegations flew away,
Quiet became the tsar's Crimean castle.
And when the West was loud with guns,
Humans like cattle were hearded East.

The free world later celebrated freedom,
The fronts suddenly became empty -
Flowers fell on the president's grave,
And there were transports, so many transports.

The red dawn follows the night
The voters voted, and Churchill left!
And there the transports of live people,
And there the camps of long death.

So don't blame the Big Three,
History's judgement was behind it
Designed in every detail -
Each of them protected, what they had.
They could have erred, in the moment -
He was not a Pole, not a Balt...
Only the victims are always right!
And such is the truth behind Jałta.




TTags: Poetry, Kaczmarski