Two six-line poems from the pandemic times, 2020


* * *

On my screen: Her room in New Jersey

lit by the afternoon sun.

Here it is night. I'm sending her dark,

she's sending me light, via Skype.

We're sending each other hope and

laughter, synchronised across the ocen.


(Listen to this poem recited at ELFM programme (at ca. 13th minute): LOVE THE WORDS



* * *

In my English textbook

there is so much travelling

you can't escape. My students and I,

with masks on our faces,

read about long-haul flights

missing our families, before Christmas.


Original English version by Klára Hůrková




A lockdown poem, 2020


Gliding down an avalanche

with ever increasing speed

around us the purple expanses


Eventually we'll land

But not there

not where we stood before


From German translated by Verena Aschbacher



The Last Afternoon with My Father


The surface of the pond reflects

the sky's ordinary face

On the membrane, the pond skaters

slide - our words

From the roots hidden deep down,

the reeds grow

broken by the wind

We watch the wagtails

the fickle, fragile birds


Hidden in you,

there's a thirst for constancy

for the garden

in which only

the seasons change


Before the reeds are broken

you turn on your heels

The sky in your eyes loses

its ordinariness

You clutch your desires

in the pocket in the palm



The Czech original appeared in the collection Za práh zraku, Dauphin, Praha 2006.


From Czech translated by Natálie Nera




Atlantis Today



with salt water, oil and black rain


under the cargo of sunken ships

under a thousand of things


it lies

under the surface of the thoughts

which, like school of fish,

hide its existence


We ourselves in the diving gear

and with our eyes blindfolded

don't understand

the simpliest of the words


We don't know that Atlantis

istn't a continent

but a state of mind


The German and Czech verisons apperaed in the collection Zeitschritte - Časokroky. Edition Thaleia, St. Ingbert, 2015.


From Czech translated by Natálie Nera



Close Up


Those who love us most

watch us so much in close-up

they don't see us anymore

They embrace us in their dreams

like golden idols

Yet our dreams

are only strange

birds behind the window pane

better not feed them


The Czech original appeared in the collection Třezalka. Edice Poezie Krušných hor. Archiv AAA, private print run, 2018.


From Czech translated by Natálie Nera



A Line Segment


You mull over the trace of images

that you brought into the landscape

and the landscape brought into you.

Familiar words and their shadows


land in your windows.

You are born again and die again

perhaps a hundredth time in this room

and the window you shut

tells about the rtuces and the fights.


Behind the blue peaks of Chinese watercolour

the sun of uncertainty goes down

and each time you submerge deeper,

you are thrown easily

into Nothingness.



The Czech original appeared in the collection Třezalka. Edice Poezie Krušných hor. Archiv AAA, private print run, 2018.


From Czech translated by Natálie Nera




Written in English by Klára Hůrková





Patiently drawing dew from the darkness

Aquarius waits for your waving

Then he descends

Words you were searching for so long

Suddenly skip from the silence



Unwritten Poems


In their unwritten poems people talk

about theit lonely flights

through the multicoloured sky of secret loves

through the deceitful paradise

of stolen smiles


In their unwritten poems people say

what makes them shiver at night

how they would die for a returned touch

of the one who has no idea why



Yogurt With Honey


Yogurt with honey must be the dish

of gods in heaven, which, luckily,

some people can also have

here on earth


I did not know that anything

could taste so light and perfect


To you, apparently, this is a normal thing

And when I tell you that my life's aim

is to find wisdom and tranquility

you wonder: Are you lacking it?


Maybe I shall try

to have some yogurt with honey every day