Jealousy — a morality tale

September 20th, 2023

I found a book of morality tales, written at the beginning of the 20th century by Polish poet Jan Lemański. He never had much of a literary or public career — except as a scandalous husband of quite an extraordinary person — judging mostly by the fact that he has no entry on Wikipedia in English. He might be completely forgotten today, even in Poland, but I read his poems with pleasure and his tales are exquisite as well and just a touch absurdist — the way I like them. I will present some of them here, with my translation and paraphrasing — as he wrote in verse and I write in prose.

Jealousy.

A crisp and clear night was spreading. The village was quiet with expectations of rest after hard work during the day. That was the time for immemorial ritual — dogs, chained in their yard during the day, were let go off of the chains and ran widely around the village, with the thrill of freedom and the duty to keep the village safe from any unwelcomed guests. Soon they gathered together, and the barking and yelping started in an unbroken crescendo:

“You, you over there, yes you who is always so exalted there!”

“Why do you shun everybody?”

“Why do you hide within the clouds?”

“Why so fat on one night, and so thin on the other?”

“You look dirty!”

“Oh, and now you are coming out of the clouds again!”

“Why are you so rude and don't talk to us?”

“Why always so conceited?”

“Why do you teach poets and youths stupid dreams?”

“You are of no use! A flashlight is better than you!”

“A candle is better than you!”

“Come closer so I can bite and teach you a lesson in good manners!”

“Why aren't you scared of us?”

Slowly, barking was less frequent and with less venom and power. Once in a while, short unison barks were still heard but were quickly dissolving into the night. And the moon, unmoved, indifferent, and uninterested in goings on in this small village in the middle of nowhere, was continuing its nightly journey to the dawn.