Born In Utopia: An Anthology Of Modern And Contemporary Romanian Poetry Book

I know little of Tadeusz Rozewicz and in truth so far only a handful of his poems (mostly the early ones) have really spoken to me, but those few have spoken clearly and directly, and with the humility of one who realises that his (or better, the) message is more important than any demonstration of skill or personality.
Witness

You know I'm in
but don't suddenly enter
my room

You might see me
silent
over a blank sheet

Can you write
about love
when you hear the cries of
the murdered and disgraced
can you write
about death
watching the little faces
of children

Do not suddenly
enter my room

You will see
a dumb and bound
witness to a love
being conquered by death
'I felt that something had come to an end forever for me and for humanity,' Rozewicz wrote of these early poems, written in Poland in the aftermath of the war.
After the end of the world
after death
I found myself in the midst of life
creating myself
building life
people animals landscapes

this is a table I said
this is a table
there is bread and a knife on the table
knife serves to cut bread
people are nourished by bread

man must be loved
I learnt by day by night
what must one love
I would reply man...

('In the Midst of Life')
Rozewicz: 'The dance of poetry came to an end during the Second World War in concentration camps created by totalitarian systems. The departure... from the special "poetic language" has produced those poems which I call stripped of masks and costumes... (so-called) "prosaicised" works which (create) the conditions for poetry's subsistence and even survival.'
The poem
is finished
now break it
and when it grows together again
break it once more
at places where it meets reality
remove the joints
the random elements
which come from the imagination
those that remain
tie up
with silence
or leave untied
when
the poem is finished
remove the foundation
on which it rests
- foundations
restrict movement -
then the construction
will rise
and for a moment
will soar above reality
with which eventually
it will collide
the collision
will be the birth
of a new poem
a stranger to reality
surprising
splitting
and transforming it

and itself undergoing
transformation

('Proposition the Second')
In his later poems it can seem as if the battle has been fought, but sometimes still he skewers a feeling perfectly:
I feel desire
he said
unfortunately he has no soul
the soul has gone
the young waitress
burst out laughing
her shape was such
one could soulless
create with her
a new man...

the souls have been snatched up
by previous generations
and now one has to live
as best one can
shallowly
quicker

('Shallowly Quicker')
They say in Poland Rozewicz may be the most influential of post-war poets. If this is true, maybe his influence hasn't spread to the Anglo world because we have yet to experience an apocalypse comparable to that of his generation's youth in Poland. In a prison camp or blasted moonscape these are the kinds of poems I would take with me, committed to memory, and easily understood by any who would care to listen.
the most tangible
description of bread
is a description of hunger

('Draft for a Modern Love Poem')