One day, about a year ago, I noticed a mouse in the room where I work. It was walking slowly right through the middle, limping slightly. I froze, wondering if it would notice me. When it reached my chair, which took a while, it turned towards me and squatted, and froze, like me. It looked at me, right into my eyes.
It looked old and tired. It looked like it wanted to let me know about something. We stayed like that for a few minutes. I reached for my phone and took a picture. Then it rose and started walking the way it had come from. It disappeared behind the closet. The next day I found the mouse dead in the same place it had been sitting the day before and looking at me. I took the mouse out and left it under a tree. That is how it was.
I’m in the process of choosing the text. Twelve short excerpts from twelve short chapters. I’m looking at different translations. Miłosz, Kamieńska, various collective translations. In Polish or in English. Amazing the differences between them. Interesting comments from some of the translators.
I almost have my selection complete. The singing will be in the original language.
(transl. Magdalena Małek-Andrzejowska)