Julian Tuwim was a polish poet born in 1894. He was the leader of the Skamander group of experimental poets, he was also a major figure in his nation's literature. In his principal collection of poetry, Slowa we krwi [words bathed in blood] (1926), he wrote with fervor and violence of the emptiness of urban existence.
Tuwim spent his childhood and early school years in Lodz. Between 1916-1918 he studied law and philosophy in Warsaw. During that time he co-operated with various magazines and cabarets. During World War II he emigrated to Romania, France, Portugal, Brasil, and in 1942 to New York. There he wrote his major poem "Kwiaty Polskie" , in which he describes the ... more »
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Julian Tuwim Poems
A big locomotive has pulled into town, Heavy, humungus, with sweat rolling down, A plump jumbo olive. Huffing and puffing and panting and smelly,
The Common Man
When plastered billboards scream with slogans 'fight for your country, go to battle' When media's print assults your senses, 'Support our leaders' shrieks and rattles...
The Dancing Socrates
I roast in the sun, old wretch... I lie, and yawn, I stretch. Old am I, but full of pep: When I take a slug from the cup
A box with paints from childhood's time: The colors of town are earth and grime. An old worker at a dark doorway squats,
Grass, grass up to my knees! Grow up to the sky So that there won't seem to be Any you or I
The Saturday Night Song
Hooray, the echo will resound throughout the wide square, When a sincere drunkard's song emanates from my throat;
My husband is idle, is dumb and spends money. He either stands still at the window or runs about town like a bunny.
Comments about Julian Tuwim
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
A big locomotive has pulled into town,
Heavy, humungus, with sweat rolling down,
A plump jumbo olive.
Huffing and puffing and panting and smelly,
Fire belches forth from her fat cast iron belly.
Poof, how she's burning,
Oof, how she's boiling,
Puff, how she's churning,
Huff, how she's toiling.
She's fully exhausted and all out of breath,
Yet the coalman continues to stoke her to death.
Numerous wagons she tugs down the track:
Iron and steel monsters hitched up to her back,
All filled with people and other things too:
The first carries cattle, ...