Polish hour
This morning around nine I had the first Polish hour - first for surely twenty years! When exactly I stopped taking hours and having a teacher, I do not know no more. Also not, when exactly I began. Perhaps 81 or 82. I sat in the course of Felek. In a stickigen lecture hall of the University of Basel. I did not understand anything. Nothing at all. Felek wrote us for hours exceptions the board. And it let copy us, in the booklet. Into the head. In the memory. At that time there was not even computer. The eyes burned. Of such and other exceptions. The neck burned. Of hissing and other sounds. Felek was proud (and is it probably still) that it knew more exceptions than Poland. I owe many things in my life to Felek. Really. But not my Polish Sprachkenntnisse. I owe nearly everything to Felek, with exception of the language. Felek sent at that time all, which carried with the intention of driving to Poland to us for longer or shorter time, to the Krakowskis in Krakau. And in such a way also I knocked a daily for the first time on the door at that and no other road in Krakau and stated in broken Polish that Felek sends me… and are sufficient. For everything and always. For October I studied 83 in Warsaw. Yes. And regularly the courses at the Polonicum visited. With a man, whose face I sees clear before me, whose name does not want to verbalisieren itself however any longer. Language courses for foreigners. At that time I hardly brought a sentence over the lips. I arrived at the name day of Tadeusz at Warsaw. That knew I at that time as few as all other things. After 85 I had certainly never again a teacher, still another one hour - to this morning at nine o'clock. Mathematically seen, that means that I learned two, three, at the most four years Polish. And I have the insolence to write. In this language. At the night I dreamed for the first time. The Engelin was awake, like always. Under the roof. With the full watering can in the left hand. Since I am here, I have an easy sleep. Loosely like fresh snow. Betäubend such as cotton wool. Colorless. Without commonplacenesses. Without injury, hysteria, envy, aggression. Today I woke up and knew immediately that I had for the first time vacated that there is me. The dream presented me a clear picture from the first days, as if this would be the most important moment of my Krakauer of life, and brought beyond that all feelings, worlds and times in disorder. Now I learn. Everything, I not Felek owes. Perhaps in the next to last (Polish) Blogeintrag I should replace the word „ochronę” through „borowiki”. But who knows whether that is not again differently around unkorrekt. And drapichrust in the future I the untranslatable Poetik of „powsinoga “or „“to assume sometime to have itself.
