Write a commentIf you recollect to have seen a elderly man running alone along the Mourne Mountain paths, you were also catching a whiff of the workings of a poet’s mind, because Zdzislaw Malkinski does both: marathons and poetry. Zdzislaw has also taken part in the Newry Marathon.
Zdzislaw Malkinski came ashore on this Isle in 2005. The Celtic Tiger had chased him out of his native land when one of her powerful cubs made a successful bid for the third biggest bank in Poland BZ WBK and made it part of AIB.
Close to pension age, he did not want to wait for a redundancy package. Thus, in a pre-emptive move, he handed in his notice. He badly needed a new identity and a new purpose in life. Fourteen years later he has certainly done that leaving an incredible footprint in Irish
Poetry.
In Ireland
even darkness is enticing
when I run along
the muddy countryside pathways
W Irlandii
nawet ciemność
jest piękna
kiedy biegnę nocą
po wiejskich wertepach
Irlandzka noc Wyspa II
Identity (Tożsamość)
You walk down
The street
And
It’s a cul-de-sac.
You see
The wall.
Strangely enough,
Only few will
dare
To jump over it
Onto the other side
Into the world
Waiting wide open.
Like a migrant on a journey for bread
You look out for
A new identity
Which lies asleep
At the bottom of your soul
Not yet awoken.
But It Is There!
Take pride in its existence.
Czasami ślepą ulicą
Idziesz
I ścianę widzisz
Ale często
Przez mur skaczesz
I dalej w świat szeroki
Jak emigrant
Za kawałkiem chleba
Idziesz
Swojej tożsamości szukać
Która
Gdzieś na dnie duszy ukryta
Jeszcze drzemie
Ale jest
Bądż dumny z niej!
Finding himself at the life crossroads at the age when most of us would dream of settling down in Puerto del Carmen, he had chosen an opposite direction, setting out to challenge the Roaring Tiger on his own terms. Malkinski had never pretended that it was easy to leave his country. The day of his departure is depicted in one of his best poems - The Polish Tale
The Polish Tale
Nothing in particular happens
In this tale.
No action
As I am waiting on Platform Three
At Kostrzyn railway station
For a train
That terminates its journey
At the station “Emigration”
In no time
It will take me over
the Odra river
I’ll pass the border
Two hearts,
My daughter and her granny
Their eyes on the train
As it is leaving.
I do not know
What the future will bring along.
I’ve got a hundred Sterling,
And eagerness to work
But no English,
I do not know yet
That when I return
My daughter will be like her mother now:
She will graduate and speak languages.
Will she leave us too?
Opowiadanie o Polsce
W tym opowiadaniu
Nic sie nie dzieje
Brak akcji
Czekam na stacji
W Kostrzynie nad Odrą
Na pociąg do emigracji
Za chwilę przekroczę granicę
Na peronie
Dwa bliskie serca
Mała córka z babcią
Czekają, aż pociąg odjedzie
Nie wiem jak będzie!
Mam przy sobie sto funtów
Brak języka, lecz chęci do pracy
Nie wiem tego – gdy wrócę
Córka będzie jak matka
Jest po studiach, zna języki
Czy zostawi nas samych?
He travelled by train from Kostrzyn to Berlin, and then took a flight to Belfast. However, he was not drawn to the metropolitan glamour of this city that after years of conflict and bad publicity was desperately trying to catch up with all other vibrant and lively European centres.
So he soon moved out to the picturesque Ballynahinch, at the foot of the Mourne Mountains. Out there he found the tranquillity he dreamt of and a job free from the hustle of drumming up profit targets. In Ballynahinch, he had discovered his passion for poetry and marathons. He even joined Orangegrove AC Belfast and had been with them for many years. The time of his run in Virgin London Marathon on the 24 April, 2016 was 3:59:05 made him one of the best Northern Irish marathon runners in his age group.
The process of training for marathons is a strenuous one: running in rain and shine for hours on end can also be monotonous. As he told me: ”late afternoons and evenings, I wrote down on paper what my mind and soul created while my body negoiated the green hills of the Mourne Mountains”
Old Druid from Ballynahinch
I spent much time in
The wilderness
Where
The winds raged at night
And the pale moon
Glanced from behind the clouds
I searched for the truth
Of the Universe;
I, an old Druid,
from Ballynahinch
Druid z Ballynahinch
Wiele czasu
Spędziłem w głuszy
Gdy wichry
Szalały nocą
A księżyc blady
Wyglądał zza chmur
Szukałem prawdy
O kosmosie
Ja stary druid
Z Ballynahinch
Malkiński has published two volumes of Irish poems in his native Poland under the titles: Wyspa I and Wyspa II. Both contain poems which for the Polish reader are like a breeze of fresh air from the Irish Sea: crispy, invigorating and challenging like Irish weather. For him, the life project called ‘migration’ was fulfilling, for others - acting on his advice - will be worth trying.....
Recommendation (Rada)
It can be done.
I kid you not.
It only takes
Topping up
Your pension with
The one
Earned abroad
It takes time:
Not too long
Proportionally - a moment,
A mere 10 years.
The recipe is simple,
Easy to follow:
Change a country,
Start a new life.
So downright easy,
Nothing extraordinary.
What's been left to decide
Is whether you want to do it,
Or whether you dare not.
Rada
To się zdarza
To nie żart
Emeryturę sklonuj swą
Troche to trwa
Lecz trwa niedługo
Proporcjonalnie krótko
Dziesięć lat
Przepis to jest prost, oczywisty
Wystarczy tylko
Zmienić kraj
I zacząc od nowa
Prosta recepta –niby nic
Musisz tylko chcieć
I móc
