Translated from the Polish by Antonia Lloyd-Jones

 
                                                                             Doom has come to you, 
                                                                             you who dwell in the land. 
                                                                                          –Ezekiel 7:7 
 
Automobiles are flowing like droplets down the string of the highway, 
then all of a sudden they’re absorbed into housing estates and courtyards, 
the reinforced concrete gardens of hypermarkets. Water 
 
does not wash anything clean, it insistently drums on the brow, seeking 
the plumb-line; droplet asking droplet what’s the way. 
I turn onto my other side, here naked trees 
 
flex themselves, as if trying to use their youthful branches 
to prop up the sky’s support wall, on which weevils 
are skillfully pretending to be seagulls and a damp mark is just as 
 
remarkably spreading to form some artificial rose. 
I get up, wake up, switch on the TV; the world goes 
back to the beginning.