Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak

HOW CAN I TELL YOU, SON?
How can I tell you, my son,that there is no home anymore,that your rocking horse got burned,that I haven't anything to eat for you?
How can I tell you, son,that the roof from which we used to watchthe starry sky completely collapsed a day before?
How can I tell you, son,that you can't see your beloved grandma anymore?She was trapped and died under the rubble of the house.
How can I tell you, son, that grandfather has gone forever too?He went to save grandma but insteaddied burned alive.
How can I tell you, son, that there is no street on which you grew up,and you knew so well each corner of it?How can I tell you, son,
that daddy went to Heaven last night?He died in the hospital saving other people's lives, while it was bombed by an enemy.
How can I tell you, my son,that you have to live on, although the world is dying around now, though the world is burning?
Though you are a kid now, remember,the immortal spirit still lives in us.It connects us in need and allows us to survive no matter how tough our life is now.We will defeat the Monster, which has attacked insidiously during the night,and we will be living in the land of ourancestors, as it is our land and belongs to us!

Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak HOW CAN I TELL YOU, SON?
КАК МНЕ СКАЗАТЬ ТЕБЕ, МОЙ СЫН?Translation from English to Russian by Alex Shcheglovitov
Как мне сказать тебе мой сын,Наш дом разрушен, а игрушкиТвои сгорели средь руин?И в этом виноваты пушки…
Как мне сказать тебе, мой сын,Что крыша, где мы так любилиСмотреть ночного неба синьСнаряды всю изрешетили?
Как мне сказать тебе, мой сын,Что бабушка… но тем ни менее,Я даже не найду причин,От нас ушла в огне мучений?
Как мне сказать тебе, мой сын,Что дедушка, прости, но всё же…А он ведь дожил до седин…Сгорел, а думал, что поможет…?
Как мне сказать тебе, мой сын,Той улицы, где рос с друзьями,И где гулял среди витринНет? Лишь воронки, глыбы, ямы.
Как мне сказать тебе, мой сын,На Небесах, твой папа…? Слушай,Он был среди других мужчин-Врачей. И был он самый лучший.Лечил, спасал, как мог, больных.Был их надеждой и опорой.Он не был в штатах боевых,А вот враги бомбили город.
Как мне сказать тебе, мой сын,Весь мир горит и умираетТы должен, ты ведь не один…Ты должен – истина простая?
Пусть ты сейчас ребёнок. Пусть.Но мы горды и терпеливы.Бессмертен дух наш, сын, не трусь,Ведь мы покуда ещё живы.Мы победим. Пусть враг силён.Пусть нас атаковал коварно. Отец твой будет отомщён,Страна нам будет благодарна.Мы жили здесь, и будем здесь! Жить с миром, дружбой и мечтою…Свершится праведная месть,Живи мой сын, владей страною.
19 марта 2022

Children go to Heaven without queuing
1.- Mommy, mommy! - a child is cryingWhere are you?! I'm afraid... - baby sobsI'm sitting on a swing, Can you see me, mum?I don't recognize our house.Just the same swing in the backyard and dumpster.The same carpet beater, we used to play on.And the little boy cries behind the garbage bin.He says everyone around is dead.Mommy!- Mommy, I remember us sitting at the kitchen table,while you were preparing breakfast for us.Dad rang us and said he loves us and he was safe.Grandma made braids for me, and grandfather was looking around for his dentures, as usual before a meal.The milk has boiled at the stove, I like the smellof milk when it pours from the pot.Then, I remember such a terrible noise and a whistle and a huge bang!After that, I don't remember anything anymore. And it got very dark, cold, and quiet.
2.- why are you crying child? - the voice from above asked- I'm looking for mom - baby sobs again- your family is safe now - the calm voice answered- but where? - the child asks through tears- they are standing in line to Heaven ...- to Heaven? ... and what about me?- children go to Heaven without a queue because they are innocent ... you have cried a lot and God let you go back to collect your favorite teddy bear ... have you found it?- no, the house is burned down, everything is burned down - and the baby cries again ...- don't cry, please. Come with me. I'll take you to your mom now.The child confidently holds Angel's hand, the one, who could not protect her from death.This time it was an Angel who cried, looking at the enormity of the desolation.
And the world looks at these nasty crimes of genocide. Shows them in the media, shows how those innocent children's motionless bodies, go to Heaven instead of going to school.Another page in history is written in front of our eyes,but if someone will remember it, when a mad idiot, presses the "red button"?

Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak Children go to Heaven without queuing
ДЕТЯМ В РАЙ ВНЕ ОЧЕРЕДИ Translation from English by Alex Shcheglovitov
1.В тишине, нарушаемой ветром, девочка плачет.Зовёт свою маму, но голос всё тише… и тише…Сидит на качелях, но это ничего не значит,Ведь дом не её, а может её, но без крыши.
На заднем дворе похожие баки, качели…Выбивалка для ковров, когда-то на ней играли, -Маленькая девочка всхлипывает еле-еле,Спрятавшись между мусорным баком и раем.
И шепчет, как молитву, уткнувши лицом в коленки:- Я помню, в то утро, я сидели за столом кухонным,Мама готовила нам завтрак – молоко и гренки,Бабушка заплетала мне косы, дедушка выглядел сонным.
Молоко закипело, мне нравится этот запах Молока, когда, оно покидает кастрюлюПотом позвонил и сказал, что нас любит, папаА потом… а потом… словно всё со стола смахнули
Только страшный какой-то протяжный свист, взрыв! И тишинаПотому, что после этого ничего не помню…Просто белая пустыня то-ли снег, то-ли стена…А может быть бомба…
2.- Почему ты плачешь, малышка? – спросили сверху.- Я ищу маму – девочка говорит сквозь слёзы.- Твои в безопасности, они испили, свою меруИм нечего бояться уже никакой угрозы.
- Но где они? – ребёнок настойчив в вопросах.- Они стоят в очереди, - грустно Ангел ответил, -На небеса? Вот так вот всё просто?А как же я? Моё солнце уже не светит?
- Дети в рай попадают без очереди, они невинны.Ты так плакала, Бог позволил тебе обратноЗа плюшевым мишкой, но там только руины.Ну не плач, отведу тебя к маме. Ладно?
Девочка доверчиво протянула свою рукуАнгелу, который не смог спасти её от смертиИ сейчас этот Ангел чувствовал всю боль и мукуГлядя на разрушенный мир и отсутствие Тверди.
А уцелевший мир смотрит на эти отвратительные преступления геноцида. Показывает их в СМИ, показывает, как эти невинные детские неподвижные тела попадают на Небеса вместо того, чтобы ходить в школу.На наших глазах пишется еще одна страница истории,а вспомнит ли это всё кто-нибудь, когда сумасшедший идиот нажмет "красную кнопку"?

And when that last day comes
My Guardian Angel,you have been walking through life with mefor so many years now,giving me a hand when I fall down helpless,you protect me when I do not see evil myself,and now there is so much evil in the world, so muchit multiplies, spreads, bleeds, and triumphs so fast.
Gods whom people have raised to the high pedestals,they probably laugh loudly at humans' stupidity.They are supposed to make only goodand teach love for one's neighbor,it was the man who made them an instrument of war.
With the name of God on their lips, these "rational" beingsthey conquered new lands, murdered, robbed, and raped.Human history is written in blood and pain.How many more cards we will be able to feel in itbefore the last animal dies,before we, people, will cut down the last tree,before the fat belly oligarch throws into their unnecessary fortune the last bloody dollar?before ...

And it was yesterday
Years go by and memories are lost in the fogBut still are just as painfulYellowed photographs so often clasped to the heartRemind us that they lived among us
Grandmother had a long number on her forearmShe often said that it was her nameGiven her by the baptism of war
I listen to the dark horror of her storyI close my eyes and see through hersThrough the eyes of a frightened childA world that has been taken from herwithout her consentA world she received, although she did not want to
At night I pray for peaceI pray that my children never know hungerThat they may enjoy every momentThat they may build a future of their desire.

The sea of blood
There was no time to pack anythingOutside the window, the neighbor gave the last scream,Looking at his wife dying in a pool of blood,when a bunch of black masks cut her womb.
The babies were sleeping in the cradles of their mother's armswhen the overloaded bus reaches the land of Hope. Thousands of hooded figures melted into the night,hoping for freedom in their country and a better tomorrow.
In their dreams, the blasting bombs are still waking them upThe light of hope went out quickly in the new country,which would give them a new start, asThe longing for all, that was left behind didn't let them be happy at the start.
The river of people flows constantly spreading widely through Europe.The rich and well-situated want to stop this unwanted flood.They have no conception of fear of hungerwithout knowing what fear and hunger are freedom comes easy to them.
Behind us, a two-headed Dragon is growing,which will destroy the heritage of nations,and with impunity will murder all, who believe in another God, andThe world looks at this sea of blood doing nothing.

Bozena Helena Mazur-Nowak born in Poland, Opole, since 2004 lived in the UK. She has published eleven volumes of poetry: four in Polish and four in English, and one in Telugu, Greek, and Hindu.

She also writes prose and released two novels and a few short story collections.

Her work may be found in more than 100 worldwide anthologies and magazines.

Winner of many poetry competitions. Proud holder of many diplomas, awards, and distinctions including Doctor Honoris Causa for a Woman of Peace from International Forum of Creativity and Humanity established in the Kingdom of Morocco and A thousand minds for Mexico Association.

She is also a translator to fellow poets, translating from and into English.

Her poetry was translated into more than 20 languages.

Page updated

Google Sites

Report abuse