Hi,

Ever imagined the last NYE before WWII broke out in Poland?

Well, you don't have to anymore, as below you'll find an excerpt from my father's diaries all about it.

Be warned: to emulate the sensations of drunkenness, the longest section is a single sentence of stream-of-consciousness. When translating, I usually do with punctuation and formatting what's best for the reader, but I felt I ought to keep it faithfully bare and dense this time round.

Before that, don't forget, I'm giving away limited-edition catalogues (full-colour and bilingual!) from the big Marek exhibition in Toruń that's ending this weekend. Scroll to the bottom of this email for your personalised link when you want to get started. 👇

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New Year's Eve - 1939 & 1969

"Halinka" by Marek Zulawski, 1938/39

The year 1938 is coming to an end, it will soon be 1939. Warsaw is covered with a white tablecloth of snow that crunches under your feet.

At IPS, the Institute of Propaganda Art, in the square that used to be called Saski Square, then Piłsudski Square, then Adolf Hitler Square, and now seems to be called Conqueror Square, although I couldn't say which one, in the sparkling snow crisscrossed by narrow paths squashed in by footsteps, one can hear laughter and shouting.

The sky is full of stars and not a hint of wind. The silence of the universe crowds out these human voices with ease. It muffles them with its immensity but allows them to be heard for a moment before the catastrophe of the Second World War.

There is human laughter in Warsaw and there are cries, there is love and it is slippery.

I hold her under my arm tightly in a manly way, I feel the warmth of her body, which is there under my arm announcing its readiness to caress me but not yet, not now, I am still waiting. I am only 30 years old, I have a lot of time for everything. I came from London by boat, also in no hurry, because I still have a lot of time for everything, time that reaches out before me like a great sea, because I still know everything, how what's definitely going to happen.

I rent a studio in London which arouses mixed feelings of bitter jealousy and adoration in people in Poland. They don't know that you can go just as hungry in a London studio as in one in Warsaw.

Halinka is the only one not impressed.

She knows Paris. Her mother grew up in Lyon, her relatives all over Europe. She is metropolitan and incredibly elegant in her fur coat.

We walk so merrily in a warm cloud of our own breath through the great cold-petrified square to the wide stairs of the pavilion, and now we stomp into the hall, shedding the coats on which snowflakes still sparkle, the cloakroom full of movement - and bright.

And then vodka at the buffet and dinner at the table and everywhere acquaintances friends relatives family because Mum is with Marcela and Julek with Bela and I don't know who else because I see them all flash before my eyes moments before they disappear into the crowd laughing unaware that in a moment a volcano will erupt, Warsaw like Pompeii is celebrating unaware I don't believe in war sir people want to live they have an instinct for self-preservation a fuss over nothing we won't give them a single button because, madam, people try to scare you but nothing bad will happen Happy New Year 1939 Hitler would never be so stupid as to risk a world war let's laugh my brothers but maybe he's mad maybe this is the world's last New Year's Eve what are you talking about take back those words they're beating Jews in the street I saw it myself from those very stairs standing outside the IPS a group of students wearing university caps appeared from Wierzbowa Street carrying sticks for the bloody Hasids "They beat Jews, they're good at it" said that IPS janitor with the limp what are you talking about what is going on here I roar where are the police go on call them if you wanna be a pansy so I go to the reception and grab the phone and tell them, they're beating people in the street but the duty policeman didn't care at all, he grunts that he'll report it, but this all happened in the autumn right after my arrival in Warsaw and now in that same square there are only New Year's Eve revellers so why is sir bothering everything will be fine so let's drink for prudence for the improvement of relations for peace in my head but now my other leg hops to the dance floor because I already miss her warm arm the whole world rocks back and forth and in this rocking like on a yacht there's only room for one thing one desire stronger than all the other feelings to reef the thin sail of her navy blue dotted dress to sail out into the rolling waters of amorous possession I'm staying with Mrs. Diana Eiger in a spruce studio abandoned by her son the poet Marek Napierski and we ran there that memorable night and thirty years later in 1969 there was another New Year's Eve I'm standing in front of the easel and paint, I even remember which painting Halinka is in the hospital — in the hospital again because of the operation I now know for sure was a complete failure I am alone in the studio weighed down with this awareness, which I do not want to interrupt I am filled with its painful venom so the painting is gloomy in colour and in its subject a man and a woman are lying on a slope under a leaden sky turned away from each other he supports his head with his hand she looks towards the other side of the world they are next to each other but not together there is nothing that connects them anymore and they are probably thinking about what to do with their lives or maybe they are not thinking about anything just longing for something that has ended the painting is not good nor bad only excessively painful and that pain hangs in the air of the studio and hides in dark corners it is eleven o'clock so the end of the old year is approaching and the new one does not promise anything good and while I'm thinking this or rather feeling it because I can only think about the painting the doorbell suddenly rings twice thrice rollicking aggressive at the front of the ladies and gentlemen enters a big beanpole a pre-war cooperativist from Żoliborz now a Polish ambassador a bullish peasant a straight shooter as the European director of the BBC the well-known Catholic and conservative Gregory Macdonald said about him in appreciation and when I jokingly questioned his communism Gienek smacked that wide barrel chest with his huge fist I truly love it like I do God he swore I am a communist so now he turns to me with drunken zeal what are you doing here on New Year's Eve standing like a prick in front of your easels waving your brush instead of celebrating as God commands and what are you even painting anyway some impotent man with a gob like a spanner, how are you honestly not ashamed throw away that dirty brush on a stick that you're holding in your hand and come with us no buts no way wash your hands and march so I squirm with reluctance excuse myself, that I'm unshaven I'm tired nothing helps just open a bottle it will do you good we're going to the residence for champagne as soon as possible so a nightcap and the bowels of the wet dark empty night suck me in across to Hampstead.

End of memory.

I don't remember much else, presumably I drenched myself completely, but there was despair at the bottom of every glass, at the end of every step, and that has remained in my memory forever.

"Dead Man" by Marek Zulawski, 1969

I promise I will get something more cheery to translate for the next newsletter. In the meantime, if you missed it, this translation of an infamous video about the Polish mountains might give you a laugh.

Otherwise, if you'd like to know more about Marek's long relationship with Halinka, I wrote this translation about a decade ago: Romance at the outbreak of World War II: meeting Halina Korn

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The Poles Are Coming

A friend recently recommended this fun BBC documentary from 2008 called The Poles are Coming. Nearly 16 eventful years have passed, including most obviously Brexit, so it feels like the EU influx of Poles to small UK towns after 2004 is now something quaint.

The documentary's tone is light and humorous, but these days its maker Tim Samuels reports from the midst of the Israel-Palestine conflict - a drastic change.

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That's it for this week. Many thanks for reading. I hope 2024 treats you fabulously.

Adam

Adam Zulawski

TranslatingMarek.com / Other stuff