After 12,5 hours at work, I thought that I cannot think…
But once aproached movie like that, something has awoken inside me, something that was so long asleep:
Smutny Człowiek zapomniał kim jest
I watched, and I watched. And I have decided that something needs to be done.
Such a Story demands a translation.
Mine, is bit clumsy .. . but still it might better than the one done by uncle Google…
“Sad man has forgotten who he is
I have already thought, that I knew, I am a dust, I am flesh
chemical soup, collection of atoms, a mistake, a setback, natural selection
An impulse in brain, a circuit, an accident, I appear and vanish,
once I was not, once I will not be, such is the chaos tactic
with handful grip I draw from life, by being senses I suck what’s around
I steal, I kill, I cheat, play, drink, there is no hell
Don’t look at me like that, these are just selfish genes, survival of the fittest
pitiable fate of my victims is a component of their random existence
Am I a machine, without an operator, programmed by glass experts?
my fruit – ugly and bitter, I rush by an impulse seeking the purpose
I yearn, I desire, I want in instant and continuously, it itches me harder and longer dread to think what comes later
in the matter of trap, seeking the fulfillment, like a fish with no water I try
still more, more and more I need, so little, little rejoice
I smile pretending that it is so fine, despite the fires around me
I believed that I’m smart and wise, a fool mourns to his mirror
The outcome – the reason like an atoms I split, under my pseudo scientific pretext
I was searching, i have been counting, got blind from the glasses,
cannot go more, without knowing who am I
Once there was a philosopher, who said, that there is no us, there is no you, there is no me, there is no no
It seems however a scam, because who would hear my singing
I can’t remember the secret, the eternal mystery, who pulls the strings?
I watch not see, I listen not hear, I am an actor, I do not remember the script
The sound drops inside, forces the neurons to move, to brain it rushes from ear
it’s curious, where does it go, whom am I the one who listens
How sad it is, that I that I strive forward not knowing where
how strange it is, that i wanted good but there is no no
how sad it is that still I do not know who am I no
Oh how strange it is that whom am I, I know not no”
Poem by Michał Napierzyński
End of Log