poetry

Photosynthesis

The sun gives birth to me almost without pain, a dressing of warmth on my foot, on my eyelids a light compress of blood, unearthly goggles. On them crouches a spectrum like a rapid

giddy anemone that tells me colorful ichthyological stories. Red and black is how everything starts, then later the Great Inundation

of Ultramarine, my amphibious vehicle. How was it? I strive to remember, rubbing my eyes. Those subcutaneous times drift nearer, they are mine

for a light-flash, a brief apnea and an exquisite fear, that instantly dissolves in the foaming depths. To possess you, world. To love you, lose you.

But what's needed is to emerge on land, grow feathers, look straight at the sun. Tie sealike green of the iris. Flesh, cloth, breath.

date of original publication: unknown translated by bill johnston source: https://www.lyrikline.org/en/poems/fotosynteza-16717

bibibliographical note: julia fiedorczuk (b. 1975) is a polish writer, poet, translator, researcher and a practitioner of ecocriticism