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Selected Poems
Blessed is the nation that in the course of a century could give the world two poets of Czeslaw Milosz's and Zbigniew Herbert's scope. Doubly blessed is the English-reader, for in this volume he gets Zbigniew Herbert's work rendered by Czeslaw Milosz: like the poor, or better yet like nature herself, Polish genius takes care of its own.
This collection of poems is bound for a much longer haul than any of us can anticipate. For Zbigniew Herbert's poetry adds to the biography of civilization the sensibility of a man not defeated by the century that has been most thorough, most effective in dehumanization of the species. Herbert's irony, his austere reserve and his compassion, the lucidity of his lyricism, the intensity of his sentiment toward classical antiquity, are not just trappings of a modern poet, but the necessary armor--in his case well-tempered and shining indeed--for man not to be crushed by the onslaught of reality. By offering to his readers neither aesthetic norethical discount, this poet, in fact, saves them frorn that poverty which every form of human eviI finds so congenial. As long as the species exists, this book will be timely.
-- Joseph Brodsky
This collection of poems is bound for a much longer haul than any of us can anticipate. For Zbigniew Herbert's poetry adds to the biography of civilization the sensibility of a man not defeated by the century that has been most thorough, most effective in dehumanization of the species. Herbert's irony, his austere reserve and his compassion, the lucidity of his lyricism, the intensity of his sentiment toward classical antiquity, are not just trappings of a modern poet, but the necessary armor--in his case well-tempered and shining indeed--for man not to be crushed by the onslaught of reality. By offering to his readers neither aesthetic norethical discount, this poet, in fact, saves them frorn that poverty which every form of human eviI finds so congenial. As long as the species exists, this book will be timely.
-- Joseph Brodsky
140 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1977
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400 people want to read
About the author
Zbigniew Herbert
130 books216 followersZbigniew Herbert was a Polish poet, essayist, drama writer, author of plays, and moralist. He was also a member of the Polish resistance movement. Herbert is one of the best known and the most translated post-war Polish writers, and has been nominated several times for the Nobel Prize in literature.
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February 17, 2018
Zbigniew Herbert (1924 - 1998)
First there was a god of night and tempest, a black idol without eyes, before whom they leaped, naked and smeared with blood. Later on, in the times of the republic, there were many gods with wives, children, creaking beds, and harmlessly exploding thunderbolts. At the end only superstitious neurotics carried in their pockets little statues of salt, representing the god of irony. There was no greater god at that time.
Then came the barbarians. They too valued highly the little god of irony. They would crush it under their heels and add it to their dishes.
Born in a most unfortunate place and time, Zbigniew Herbert's life story is a familiar tale of bitter struggle against the Nazis in the Polish underground and then decades of resistance against the Communist bureaucrats running his country who returned the favor and suppressed his writings, so it can hardly be surprising that Herbert's work is very political. But it is most certainly not political in any overtly propagandistic or ideological manner. As thoroughly suffused with history as C.P. Cavafy's, Herbert's poems and essays take the long view while coming down firmly on the side of the individual struggling to keep afloat in the swamping tides of his overwhelming context. Despite the more than ample cause, in Herbert's work there are no shrieks of pain, outrage or horror, much less self-pity. Not only his dwelling upon and updating of incidents from Graeco-Roman history evidence his classical bent, but his carefully balanced restraint and his quiet, rational voice manifest it as well. Recalling that Herbert spent much of his adult life in quasi-exile, consider the following:
The Return of the Proconsul
I’ve decided to return to the emperor’s court
once more I shall see if it’s possible to live there
I could stay here in this remote province
under the full sweet leaves of sycamores
under the gentle rule of sickly nepotists
when I return I don’t intend to commend myself
I shall applaud in measured portions
smile in ounces frown discreetly
for that they will not give me a golden chain
this iron one will suffice
I’ve decided to return tomorrow or the day after
I cannot live among vineyards nothing here is mine
trees have no roots houses no foundations the rain is
glassy flowers smell of wax
a dry cloud rattles against the empty sky
so I shall return tomorrow or the day after in any case I shall return
I must come to terms with my face again
with my lower lip so it knows how to curb its scorn
with my eyes so they remain ideally empty
and with that miserable chin the hare of my face
which trembles when the chief of guards walks in
of one thing I am sure I will not drink wine with him
when he brings his goblet nearer I will lower my eyes
and pretend I’m picking bits of food from between my teeth
besides the emperor likes courage of convictions
to a certain extent to a certain reasonable extent
he is after all a man like everyone
and already tired by all those tricks with poison
he cannot drink his fill incessant chess
this left cup is for Drusus from the right one pretend to sip
then drink only water never lose sight of Tacitus
go out into the garden and come back when they've taken away the corpse
I’ve decided to return to the emperor’s court
yes I hope that things will work out somehow
In that horrendous 20th century many poets had to face the inadequacy of words before the crushing reality of the time - it is fascinating to me to see the many different stratagems they adopted - and for all his sober clear-sightedness Herbert quietly insisted upon poetry's value, despite its impotence.
Five Men
1.
They take them out in the morning
to the stone courtyard
and put them against the wall
five men
two of them very young
the others middle-aged
nothing more
can be said about them
2.
when the platoon
level their guns
everything suddenly appears
in the garish light
of obviousness
the yellow wall
the cold blue
the black wire on the wall
instead of a horizon
that is the moment
when the five senses rebel
they would gladly escape
like rats from a sinking ship
before the bullet reaches its destination
the eye will perceive the flight of the projectile
the ear record the steely rustle
the nostrils will be filled with biting smoke
a petal of blood will brush the palate
the touch will shrink and then slacken
now they lie on the ground
covered up to their eyes with shadow
the platoon walks away
their buttonstraps
and steel helmets
are more alive
than those lying beside the wall
3.
I did not learn of this today
I knew it before yesterday
so why have I been writing
unimportant poems on flowers
what did the five talk of
the night before the execution
of prophetic dreams
of an escapade in a brothel
of automobile parts
of a sea voyage
of how when he had spades
he ought not to have opened
of how vodka is best
after wine you get a headache
of girls
of fruits
of life
thus one can use in poetry
names of Greek shepherds
one can attempt to catch the colour of morning sky
write of love
and also
once again
in dead earnest
offer to the betrayed world
a rose
Józef Hałas (1927 - 2015)
I must always overcome a certain reluctance to write about my favorite authors, for I know I can never provide a fully representative image of their work; this is particularly true of Herbert's sixty year career (Alissa Valles' translation of Herbert's Collected Poems runs over 550 pages). My first acquaintance with his texts dates back to the late '70s, when I stumbled upon Karl Dedecius' fine German versions, and since then I believe I have read essentially everything he wrote except the early dramas.(*) Many poets have given us their versions, but as a first taste for the English reader I'd like to recommend the Selected Poems (1968) composed more or less jointly by Peter Dale Scott and Czeslaw Milosz; all the translations I cite here stem from that book.
I'd like to give Herbert the last word; he was as mindful of our limits as the pebble is.
Pebble
The pebble
is a perfect creature
equal to itself
mindful of its limits
filled exactly
with a pebbly meaning
with a scent which does not remind one of anything
does not frighten anything away does not arouse desire
its ardour and coldness
are just and full of dignity
I feel a heavy remorse
when I hold it in my hand
and its noble body
is permeated by false warmth
—Pebbles cannot be tamed
to the end they will look at us
with a calm and very clear eye.
(*) Though I am not discussing Herbert's essays here, I did briefly discuss a few of them some years ago:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
July 25, 2017
The time it took me to read this book (almost a year) is not in any way connected to the quality of this work. Poems are hard, although i think they're cool.
Once during a lecture we read some poems by ZH, and i liked it. Especially his prose poems, and especially the ones in which he alivens lifeless and simple objects such as a chair, giving them thoughts and sentiments.
His references to Greek Antiquity are a bit over the top, but that will be the difference in time between him and me.
It's a small booklet, with small wonders. Not always, but many times indeed.
Once during a lecture we read some poems by ZH, and i liked it. Especially his prose poems, and especially the ones in which he alivens lifeless and simple objects such as a chair, giving them thoughts and sentiments.
His references to Greek Antiquity are a bit over the top, but that will be the difference in time between him and me.
It's a small booklet, with small wonders. Not always, but many times indeed.
May 13, 2013
ماذا يكون العالم
إذا لم يمتلىء
بصخب الشاعر المستمر
بين الطيور والحجارة
إذا لم يمتلىء
بصخب الشاعر المستمر
بين الطيور والحجارة
March 15, 2008
Slaughter!
May 29, 2008
This is a wonderful collection. I particular like when he uses longer lines and line breaks. His prose poems are my least favorite, but they feel very natural.
March 12, 2019
Faves -
An Answer
The Ardennes Forest
Home
The Rain
In a city
An Answer
The Ardennes Forest
Home
The Rain
In a city
November 27, 2024
Episode
We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don't cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
what should I say on the shore of
a small dead sea
slowly the water fills
the shapes of feet which have vanished
This is the wonderful Zbigniew Herbert.
This is one of the few times I prefer a 'Collected' edition to a 'Selected'.
We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don't cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
what should I say on the shore of
a small dead sea
slowly the water fills
the shapes of feet which have vanished
This is the wonderful Zbigniew Herbert.
This is one of the few times I prefer a 'Collected' edition to a 'Selected'.
April 30, 2025
"thus one can use in poetry
names of Greek shepherds
one can attempt to catch the colour of morningely
write of love
and also
once again
in dead earnest
offer to the betrayed world
a rose"
— from “Five Men”
Don’t you just love when an old favorite holds up on a reread? Zbigniew Herbert was a favorite poet of mine in college & I'm thrilled to discover that his work resonates even more with me today. I would recommend this book to readers who love beautiful, elevated yet light-hearted poetry with themes of life, love, the beauty in small things & moments, & the necessity of art to the survival of the soul.…
Click here to read my full review of SELECTED POEMS complete with my full thoughts, further reading suggestions, & more of my favorite quotes, notes, & annotations!
★ ★ ★ ★ .5
CW // ptsd, war, war crimes (incl. graphic depiction of execution by firing squad)
Want to read
December 6, 2015 Episode
We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don’t cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
what should I say on the shore of
a small dead sea
slowly the water fills
the shapes of feet which have vanished
We walk by the sea-shore
holding firmly in our hands
the two ends of an antique dialogue
—do you love me?
—I love you
with furrowed eyebrows
I summarize all wisdom
of the two testaments
astrologers prophets
philosophers of the gardens
and cloistered philosophers
and it sounds about like this:
—don’t cry
—be brave
—look how everybody
you pout your lips and say
—you should be a clergyman
and fed up you walk off
nobody loves moralists
what should I say on the shore of
a small dead sea
slowly the water fills
the shapes of feet which have vanished
November 30, 2014
This book contains careful translations into English, with concern to be exact but also to render the Polish original into fluent English. A reviewer, Michael Hofmann in "Poetry Magazine" (Chicago, May 2007) wrote, "In the hands of the Carpenters, we have seen that everything--be it an article or tense or an "of"--can become an expressive resource deployed in Herbert's cause." ("A Dead Necktie," p. 128.)
March 19, 2011
Beautiful, truly important poetry. If I ever see it at a bookstore, I would love to purchase it and add it to my collection.
June 18, 2021
This is my favorite poem in the collection:
The Rain
When my older brother
came back from war
he had on his forehead a little silver star
and under the star
an abyss
a splinter of shrapnel
hit him at Verdun
or perhaps at Grunwald
(he'd forgotten the details)
he used to talk much
in many languages
but he liked most of all
the language of history
until losing breath
he commanded his dead pals to run
Roland Kowaski Hannibal
he shouted
that this was the last crusade
that Carthage soon would fall
and then sobbing confessed
that Napoleon did not like him
we looked at him
getting paler and paler
abandoned by his senses
he turned slowly into a monument
into musical shells of ears
entered a stone forest
and the skin of his face
was secured
with the blind dry
buttons of eyes
nothing was left him
but touch
what stories
he told with his hands
in the right he had romances
in the left soldier's memories
they took my brother
and carried him out of town
he returns every fall
slim and very quiet
he does not want to come in
he knocks at the window for me
we walk together in the streets
and he recites to me
improbable tales
touching my face
with blind fingers of rain
The Rain
When my older brother
came back from war
he had on his forehead a little silver star
and under the star
an abyss
a splinter of shrapnel
hit him at Verdun
or perhaps at Grunwald
(he'd forgotten the details)
he used to talk much
in many languages
but he liked most of all
the language of history
until losing breath
he commanded his dead pals to run
Roland Kowaski Hannibal
he shouted
that this was the last crusade
that Carthage soon would fall
and then sobbing confessed
that Napoleon did not like him
we looked at him
getting paler and paler
abandoned by his senses
he turned slowly into a monument
into musical shells of ears
entered a stone forest
and the skin of his face
was secured
with the blind dry
buttons of eyes
nothing was left him
but touch
what stories
he told with his hands
in the right he had romances
in the left soldier's memories
they took my brother
and carried him out of town
he returns every fall
slim and very quiet
he does not want to come in
he knocks at the window for me
we walk together in the streets
and he recites to me
improbable tales
touching my face
with blind fingers of rain
December 30, 2019
This is my first introduction to Herbert. He was recommended by a couple of Polish friends when I mentioned that I’d been reading Mandelstam. There is a similar quality to their work, though I find Herbert both more brutal at times and more playful at others. I enjoyed the bulk of the poems alot, and what poems I didn’t love, I didn’t mind. His most endearing quality to me was his appreciation for physicality and substance, especially in contrast to metaphysical constructs which are seemingly less weighty or unearthly.
My favourite poems were:
Nike who hesitates
I would like to describe
Voice
A tale
The seventh angel
The wind and the rose
A Russian tale
From mythology
Pebble
Wooden Die
Anything rather than an angel
Armchairs
Preliminary investigation of an angel
Report from paradise
Practical recommendations in the event of a catastrophe
My favourite poems were:
Nike who hesitates
I would like to describe
Voice
A tale
The seventh angel
The wind and the rose
A Russian tale
From mythology
Pebble
Wooden Die
Anything rather than an angel
Armchairs
Preliminary investigation of an angel
Report from paradise
Practical recommendations in the event of a catastrophe
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February 19, 2022Tego nie czytałam, a dramat ,,Drugi pokój", a że nie ma na goodreads to sobie w ten sposób zaznaczam chwilowo (notatka dla mnie po prostu).
September 12, 2007
Amazing.
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews