łazienki

ŁAZIENKI

The squirrel kept sniffing in the wet grass

Its busy tail irritated the peacocks

that strutted around screeching

among the flower-beds, on the verandas

Their claws stabbed at the stone slabs

The last king, Poniatowski, slept uneasily

Ryx, his trusted companion, lay awake next door

A humble barber from Flanders

personal guard, manager, at last a nobleman

his coat of arms, a Ring

The little Water Palace unsuspecting

bridged the lake

A few years hence the country would be torn in three

half a century a later, swiftly and soundlessly

arisen from their barracks at the Park's other end

the select young men of Archduke Konstantin, the Russian

would cross the pavements

Disguised as a woman, he fled

One more uprising got drowned in blood

and thirty three years later

the Kingdom of Poland

was erased

In black, the women sold

hid their jewels

They put on

iron chains

[This poem, translated from the Greek (in Polonia, Kastaniotis Editions, 2016) by Panayotis Ioannidis, was anthologised in Th. Chiotis' [ed.] Futures – Poetry of the Greek Crisis (Penned in the Margins, 2015). Photo by P.I., Łazienki, iv.2004]