The Tower of Babel

Oh, Dante Alighieri and William Shakespeare,
Lord Byron, Norwid, Goethe and Pushkin,
throw light on me filled with poetry
and let me write something that touches God.
Poets, do you hear me?
Are you listening to me?
Oh, yeah! Nothing can stop me
in my search of liberty!
The one which is like
swimming in the sea of diamonds,
flying in the eyes of the sun.

I search on Internet everything I want.
The templates in Google,
the images in Picasa
and, God! So much more!
I want freedom and peace,
and to be happy.
I want the theater of the world
playing not only for me. For us!
The many adventures, the love of people,
but also the tragedies, inhumanity,
and arrogance being shown.
So we can all act and do
what needs to be done.
I see Abel and Cain, Romeo and Juliet,
Osama bin Laden, Bush, Putin and Blair.
So many fools, and so much drama!
Forgive them, Lord,
for they don't know what they do!

Then I use programs: Dreamweaver,
IrfanView, JavaScript and Fireworks,
and creams of other magical webtools ...
I take a cup of coffee
and feel that the finale is coming.
I turn yet on the radio
and listen to Chopin's ballads,
the elixirs of the mind.
The emotions transform me into eagle,
the king of heaven, for whom
the so-called blue blood does not exist.
The eagle which adopts orphans
and which asks
the so-called royal families
why they don't do the same. Why?!

Oh, Elizabeth II,
the Queen of the British Commonwealth,
oh, Prince Charles
and Princess Camilla of Cornwall,
Prince William and Prince Harry,
the lucky birdies,
Oh, Queen Beatrix,
Prince Willem-Alexander and Maxima,
oh, Albert II and Queen Paola,
the monarchs of Belgium,
oh, Prince Philippe and Mathilde,
Princess Astrid and Prince Laurent.
Oh, Prince Albert of Monaco,
Caroline and Stephanie,
and many other so-called princes!
Can you see all those orphans?
Can you extend your hands to them?
Do you see their eyes,
the eyes which are mirror of God?

There is the Universe,
a maze of dimensions.
What a beautiful infinity!
What a perfection!
Oh, what a perfection!
Here is our planet Earth,
a pearl of the Universe
as seen from the outside,
a perpetual fountain ...
But a burning house,
as seen from inside,
a burning one
like a Pandora's Box!
Filled with global warming
and rising oceans,
autocratic leaders, wars,
poverty, racism, bigotry,
intolerance ...
Oh, Earth, where are you going to ?!
Oh, Earth, Earth! ...
Where are you going to ?!

I feel myself a starman,
a stranger and a magician,
walking on a fine harp,
threading through a silk scarf,
ready to fight for this world,
for the sunshine of newborn liberty,
the one spreading from the Eye of God
to every corner of this world
and back to the God's Eye.
The ballads of Chopin go on and on.
For eternity!
Lost in my thoughts
I open FTP and upload my data.
And then as if in the Big Bang,
spreading outward
and also inward,
to the core of my soul,
I see the Face of God.
The Face of God ...

I am standing now
before a double-shaped sky scraper
which is reaching to the heavens.
It's all glass which is playing
with the radiating sunlight.
What a beautiful view!
What a jewel! Oh, God!
There is a sign on the door that says: " Babylon "
Oh, no, is it the Tower of Babel ?
The one, which is the Gate of God itself ?
Yes, this is the Tower of Babel
The tower of so many languages,
over six thousand of them !
What a beautiful building!
Like a tribute to the Ark!
Above the landscape of human beings!
The evergreen Tree of Life!
Oh, you are a wonder of a thousand and one nights!
I do not have to have a key,
a magnetic card or a remote control
in order to get inside this skyscraper,
double one, reaching heavens.
Oh, God, God, God Almighty !
It is indeed the Tower of Babel!

I come inside and see thousands of people
in small groups sitting around the tables.
This is just a ground floor,
how breathtaking !
I ask myself what's on other floors,
which are endless ...
Strange enough,
I see only Belgians and Dutch people
on this floor.
Somehow from deepness of myself,
I know it's a Day of the Dutch here.
And I know there are people
from all over the world
on the other floors.
' Let's concentrate on this floor ',
I say to myself.
Wow, it's the Department of Dutch !
I take a closer look
and can't believe my own eyes.
They are all famous people,
from the past, present and future.
As if taken away
from the time vehicle !

I walk to the first table
and once again can't believe my own eyes.
There's the immortal Andreas Vesalius
The author of "On the construction of the human body"
Next to him as great man, Nicolaus Copernicus himself
with his "On the rotation of the celestial spheres".
Beside him two great painters,
Paul Rubens and Anthony van Dijk
who are close friends.
Also Desiderius Erasmus, Dirk Martens,
Christopher Plantin, Gerardus Mercator.
"Dutch is the best language in the world.
I don't understand why the French and Spaniards
Don't let us to speak Dutch "- I hear Dirk Martens saying.
"Yes, yes." - Answers Paul Rubens
- "I don't care whether they like it or not.
I just speak our beloved language, my friends!
The language of the heavenly stars! “
- "And you, who are you?
Where do you come from? "
- Anthony van Dijk directs his question to me.
He makes a sketch at the same time.
A sketch worth certainly millions!
I feel embarrassed because I see all these eyes,
The eyes of the masters and geniuses,
looking at me!
"I was born in Poland, the country of Copernicus,
Ignacy Jan Paderewski, Marie Curie-Sklodowska,
Krzysztof Penderecki, the one who
' The seven gates of Jerozolima '
composed amongst others.
Van de land of Adam Mickiewicz,
Juliusz Slowacki, Andrzej Wajda, Roman Polanski,
Tadeusz Kantor and his avant-garde theater,
to name but a few.
I know the time here in this tower of Babel doesn't count.
So I don't say when I departed from Poland.
But, I came away from the communist tyranny
to ... America.
Which I have never reached. Never!
Oh, yeah! Fate, of course!
I left in search of freedom, I - a teenager full of dreams.
A little bit Hamlet, and a little bit Don Quixote ... "
" And ... have you found your freedom ? " - Asks me Erasmus.
" Have I found my freedom? ..." - I repeated,
lost deeply in my thoughts.
"Come here, young man, sit downby us !
Do you like Dutch ? "
- I hear Peter Paul Rubens saying,
just the moment when I wanted to answer
the question of Erasmus.
He knew that not every question could be answered.
"It is a beautiful language, though more complicated than English."
- I answered.
"And also more complicated than ... Polish?"
"No, I don't think so.
I heard from many people
Polish is the most complex language after the Chinese.
Yet it's my mother language, a rose and a virgin!
It is true to say that all languages are varying:
In vocabulary, syntax and sound, isn't it ? "
“ And ... what about our language ?
Do you find it difficult ? "
- Curiosity of Paul Rubens is high levelled.
“ Yes and no “ - is my answer .
“ I discovered there are words in Dutch
which have many meanings.
I say for example ' Ik lig'
but does it mean something
about cheating or simply lying in bed?
Or 'zweren' ? Am I infected or do I take oath?
It's simple for you but complicated for foreigners.
I have sometimes a trouble with finding right words
And that's like stuff
which one sometimes finds and sometimes not.
Or like my glasses which I can't find,
but find them later on ... on my nose .
Oh, divine decadence, you never know! "

“ Hey, Young man, come to us ! “
I hear Father Damian sitting at the second table.
I am surprised to see him. Him, an angel !
I come there and see there also the great singer, Jacques Brel.
The one who his erotic ' Flat land ' just sings,
shortly followed by his another song ' Marieke '.
Beside him I see Paul Jansen, René Magritte, Gerard Reve,
William Elsschot, Dirk Frimout
and Pieter Breughel, the one who painted ' The Fall of Icarus '.
I have impression I am dreaming
but yet my eyes see all these clearly
and I hear the song, brilliantly performed by Jacques Brel.
No, it's real ! It can't be a dream !
"So ... you emigrated from Poland directly to Belgium?"
- Asks me Father Damian.
" No. I tried first to immigrate to the United States.
To my promised land !
But I wasn't successful in this regard
and so I emigrated to ... New Zealand,
the land of Katharine Mansfield, Edmund Hillary,
of the great soprano Kiri Te Kanawa ...
The land also of spectacular Coromandel Peninsula,
Milford Sounds Waterfalls, Windy Wellington ...
The land which is called Aotearoa in Maori language,
what means: ' The land of the long white cloud '.
The pristine country never to be forgotten. “
" But they are speaking English there, aren't they ? "
- asked me one of them.
"Of course ! Fluently! Brightly!
It's though their language !
As for me I consider English
to be my fatherly language. "
Ha, ha, ha... I hear them laughing.
“ You have both, a father and a mother,
your Polish and English, and now ... also Dutch.”
“ Yes, exactly. “ - I smile to them.
- " I feel myself in this regard like a kid
who has yet lot's to learn.
I think it will be easier for me
to speak Dutch
because both, Dutch and English,
belong to the same Germanic languages
and are thus similar to each other.
But ... of course, it will take time
before I will be able to speak Dutch fluently.
Nevertheless, they differ sometimes much.
English is a stress-timed language
while Dutch is a syllable one ,
as are German, French, Italian and Polish. “
"Do you know another word for 'table manners'?
- Ask Jacques Brel.
"Consumption" – answers Gerard Reve without
"And 'menu?'" - "Cost!"
"Headhunter?" - "Royal Warrant",
"Dice?" - "Shivering!"
"And how do you say:
' Look, the pastor preaches ' , in other words?"
"Look, there's a hole in his sock!"
- shots back Father Damian
and bursts with laughter at the same time.
I see they are really enjoying themselves
what concerns the box full of puzzles
in their beloved Dutch.

I see young faces at the third table .
They do not know yet what is old age
and how senility can be affecting,
grounding and dooming people,
forcing them forget their dreams
which were swirling around them
through most of their lives.
Although ... there are also many
among old people, the lucky ones
whose lives are vibrating
on the strings of life, forever !
.... To be continued ....

From the cycle of " The Tower of Babel ".
Copyright © Thaddeus Hutyra, started in 2007, originally in Dutch, and continued

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