these poets ... Bogdan Czaykowski
A Prayer
Throw me into a cloud o lord
but do not make me a drop of rain
I do not want to return to earth
throw me into a flower o lord
but do not make me a bee
I would die from an excess of industrious sweetness
throw me into a lake
but do not make me a fish o lord
I would not be able to become cold-blooded
throw me into a forest
like a pine cone on the grass
let no red-haired squirrels find me
throw me into a calm shape of a stone
but not on the pavement of a London street
o lord I worry and bite walls in this alien city
you who turn me over fire
pluck me from flames
and deposit me on a quiet white cloud
— Bogdan Czaykowski (1965)
Throw me into a cloud o lord
but do not make me a drop of rain
I do not want to return to earth
throw me into a flower o lord
but do not make me a bee
I would die from an excess of industrious sweetness
throw me into a lake
but do not make me a fish o lord
I would not be able to become cold-blooded
throw me into a forest
like a pine cone on the grass
let no red-haired squirrels find me
throw me into a calm shape of a stone
but not on the pavement of a London street
o lord I worry and bite walls in this alien city
you who turn me over fire
pluck me from flames
and deposit me on a quiet white cloud
— Bogdan Czaykowski (1965)
