W ziarenkach co duszy nie mają, choć kto wie, czy aby na pewno.
Cała nasza nadzieja. Co to nie sieje, nie orze. Ucho nie słyszało.
Tam w zagłębieniach, fałdach, na podorędziu, ukradkiem.
Tam na chłodzie, na mrozie, bez czapki. Gdy świat sobie pójdzie.
Może coś zostanie. Może na nowo zacznie. Jakaś jabłoń, jacyś pod nią ludzie.


SPITSBERGEN
In the grains which do not have souls, well, who knows if it is true.
All our hope. Which does not sow, does not till. No ear can hear.
There – in hollows, folds, within reach, furtively.
There – cold, freezing, with no cap. When the world is gone.
Perhaps something will be left. Perhaps something will start again.
An apple tree, some people under it.
(translated by: Caveman1 Marek Marciniak)