Tired Warrior
This album features a selection of poems by the Danish poet Benny Andersen in Czech translation, set to music by the Czech songwriter and singer Jan Burian who was inspired by his great admiration for the Danish poet and by his joy in the great power of seemingly powerless words.
1. Goodness
2. Winter Prayer
3. Smile
6. M.
12. The Persistent Worshipper
13. Sabina
18. Skeptical Prayer
I've always tried to be good
it's very demanding
I'm a real hound for
doing something for someone
hold coats
doors
seats
get someone a job
or something
open up my arms
let someone have his cry on my shirt
but when I get my chance
I freeze completely
some kind of shyness maybe
I urge myself-do it
fling your arms wide
but it's difficult to sacrifice yourself
when somebody's watching
so hard to be good
for more than a few minutes
like holding your breath
however with daily practice
I have worked up to a whole hour
if nobody disturbs me
I sit all alone
with my watch in front of me
spreding my arms
again and again
no trouble at all
I am actually best
When I'm all alone.
Winter, make me quiet
so I can hear the pain
in the closed trees,
in the mute birds,
in the water that scratches
under the ice
with the thin fingernails of children.
Winter, make me quiet
so I can hear your pain.
Winter, make me alert
so I can recognize you.
This induction current
that crooks my hand
when I want to open it,
is that you?
Are you tied up some place
transmitting distress signals right through my nerves?
Winter, make me alert
so I can find you.
I was born with a howl
squalling I received my baptism
yelled when I was thrashed
shrieked when bees stung me
but gradually became more Danish
learned to smile at the world
at the photographer
at doctors
policemen and perverts
became a citizen in the land of the smile
smiles keep the flies away and the mind clean
and light and air are good for the teeth
if you arrive too late
if you go bankrupt
if you're run over
just smile
tourists stream in
to see smiling trafficvictims
the chuckling homeless
the cackling bereaved.
I can't get rid of my smile
sometimes I want to cry
or just stand openmouthed
or protest against other smiles
that conceal bloodthirstiness and putrefaction
but my own smile is in the way
sticks out like a cowcatcher
tearing hats and glasses off people
with a smile I bear my smile
my halfmoon yoke
where one hangs his worries out to dry
I have to duck my head to the side
to get through a door
I am a citizen in the land of the smile
it's not a bit funny
Over my bed hangs a crucifix
for me love is holy
I look over my lover's shoulder
and meet the crucified one's sorrowful glance
but my lover notices
gets jealous
doesn't understand
stops
and I have to hang the son of man out in the kitchen
on a hook with the dishtowels
but I leave the door ajar
and when we lie in a certain way I can see
my saviour through the crack
he nods in at us: and this too I take upon me
And then when it really hurts
I get the most out of it
when it really hurts
I feel that the thorn-crowned
sees to it that it rightly comes to pass
that I suffer
the thorns thrust into my flesh
the veil is rent from top to bottom
I bear my share of the world's suffering
It is finished
If just one single time I
could see you from within
send a homemade dragonkite up from your highest heartpeak
wave with gailycolored festoons and swallow-tailed flags from
your eyebalconies
I who otherwise never give my blood away
herewith promise you a future on flying carpets made from our
common membranes
to track down your mislaid lists of wishes
write all your Christmas cards a full ten years ahead
educate eventual children in all the disciplines
and keep your footsteps warm besides
If I am allowed to sail in your own sea
cross your gill reefs
be washed ashore on your most secret island
climb your spinal column's swaying palm
culminate as a cocoanut in your crown
I beg you at least answer my bottle-message
if I have objectionable failings just name them
and I will immediately have myself amputated to a toothpick if
necessary
If only I might weed out intrusive grapeseeds and dreamshells
from your teeth
get a single mother-of-pearl nail to clean as my reward
after that crack me
cast me aside
I beg of you just
Use me.
I do not know you, Sabina,
I do not know anyone having that name
but I think you're wonderful and warm like your name
and dangerous for those of my sex.
I have never met you, Sabina,
and it's certainly just as well,
for then I would have become so hectic
I'd have forgotten everything else but you,
and then your lover - probably a Greek
Marxist-would have gunned me down,
And I love to live, Sabina, especially
after I have not met you.
You've changed my life considerably,
I've lost a good bit of weight
just to please you, Sabina.
I'm scarcely as good company as before,
but have become more conscientious.
On voting day I stand for a long while thinking:
Where would Sabina mark her ballot?
That's where I'll mark it, too,
for Sabina must certainly be supported.
Sabina, my secret angel,
you guide my hand and my thought,
and things are going quite smoothly, after all,
and when I die one day, Sabina,
hopefully I will hear
your warm voice proclaim:
"He could have been a lot worse.
He left his mark here and there,
he talked often with his children,
a few of his neighbors will miss him
Perhaps he was a little confused
but it stemmed from an honest heart
and no one asked him for beer in vain
He was on time for his meals
and slandered himself most of all.
There weren't many of his kind
and he should be thanked for that."
Then I'll pass away peacefully
although it will certainly be
a curious sensation.
Thank my, Sabina, my guardian spirit-
I do not know you, Sabina,
I do not know anyone like you.
I pray for those weak in spirit
(the crossword puzzle was hard today)
for those weak in flesh, for those hooked on the bottle
(I have an empty bottle for every stern intention)
Peace on earth, repose for all those persecuted!
(I am behind in my taxes)
I pray for those hit by polio, those pollinated by the atom
for those toothless and those with polyps
(one never knows)
I pray for balance in life
like the shopkeeper with his thumb on the scales:
just let it look right!