written by: Wieslaw W Falkowski
translated by: Renata Hildich
the plane does not ascend majestically at all
the roaring of the engines violates the silence
acceleration pushes me into the seat
the machine lifts off the ground quickly
very quickly it reaches height and speed
which allows the distance from city A to city B
to be covered in the most economical way
through the window
I can see the pink swirling clouds
in the rays of the setting sun
like candy floss remembered from my childhood
made of sugar at a village church fair
on Saint Catherine’s Day
a thought flashes
just for a moment
that the plane stops
that it will start falling
and either the cotton wool clouds
will wrap and save me
and I will hover unexpectedly frozen in time
between heaven and earth
for infinity
forever
or not held back by any force
I will tumble down to the ground
and dig into a soft ploughed field
where hell is not so far
and there are two willows on an abutment
nearby a patient Jesus on the cross
on a flying plane
which in the most economical way
covers the distance from city A to city B
I look out for dreams
broadcast by swindlers of reality
on a hopelessly flat screen
I am losing the ability to write poetry
I am forgetting about the candy floss
between heaven and earth
earth and hell
at the large airport in city B
one-way ticket
I throw into a recycling bin
on my phone’s keypad I hurriedly type
one word – landed
