Traktacik o wyobraźni [English translation]

Life has states variation:

overdoing, cessation, hunger, satiation.

Quality, blandness, change and being.

Blossoming as well as expiring...

Truly too many experiences,

mistaken paths and makeovers.

Happiness saves mentalisation

blessed withering of imagination.

So there are those for whom it’s nothing

understanding limits trespassing;

they know exactly what’s happening,

why God’s silent, Oblivion - calling.

Those, once they get hands trembling

count on priests or seek doctoring;

They live happily in subordination

blessed withering of imagination.

Others, albeit satiated with nothingness

trust in every of vain promises,

spells, lotteries and incantations

with ritual and deadly serious.

Oh well, every single day they’re hurting

-for opposite things they are hoping.

Greatest absurd and no rumination

blessed withering of imagination.

Others still - players of semantics,

gaming with reversing meanings,

and belying countless pages-

houses of marked cards engineer.

Joy it is fleeting, life-consuming

Free of rules, so with no leanings.

The winner - loudest in clowning participation

blessed withering of imagination

There’s still a few, completely lost

Among columns, forgotten meadows,

Where from ruins, frescos, stained glass

they stutter on what'll come to pass.

They know what they don’t know - idiots!

Suffering proudly, living cloudly,

Burnt in frost, frozen in perspiration

ever-free captives of imagination.

Those who fear, those who medicate,

Who spooks and reasons stand opposite,

Those who juggling make a living,

Who through glass in hearts are peering -

They will all come together…

to witness their own decapitation

blessed withering of imagination.