About Troy

By Zbigniew Herbert

1

Troy O Troy

an archeologist

will sift your ashes through his fingers

yet a fire occurred greater than that of the Iliad

for seven strings—

too few strings

one needs a chorus

a sea of laments

and thunder of mountains

rain of stone

—how to lead

people away from the ruins

how to lead

the chorus from poems—

thinks the faultless poet

respectably mute

as a pillar of salt

—The song will escape unharmed

It escaped

with flaming wing

into a pure sky

The moon rises over the ruins

Troy O Troy

The city is silent

The poet struggles with his own shadow

The poet cries like a bird in the void

The moon repeats its landscape

gentle metal in smoldering ash

2

They walked along ravines of former streets

as if on a red sea of cinders

and wind lifted the red dust

faithfully painted the sunset of the city

They walked along ravines of former streets

they breathed on the frozen dawn in vain

they said: long years will pass

before the first house stands here

they walked along ravines of former streets

they thought they would find some traces

a cripple plays

on a harmonica

about the braids of a willow

about a girl

the poet is silent

rain falls