IN THE PUB

Collection of poems

Jaroslav Bálek

Table of contens

IN THE PUB

HISTORY IN THE PUB

I WANTED TO BE A INNKEEPER

BEER PROFESSIONS

PUB IN THE MORNING

EMPTY PUB

PUB ON THE FOOTBALL FIELD

PUB BY THE CHILDREN'S PLAYGROUND

PUB AT THE SWIMMING POOL

PUB BY THE SEA

PUB BY THE RIVER

STATIONARY PUB

STUDENT PUB

SPORTS PUB

GARDEN PUB

WINTER PUB

THE PUB AS A SCIENTIFIC LIBRARY

THE PUB AS A PHARMACY

A PUB LIKE A PASTRY SHOP

MODERN PUB

THE THIEF'S PUB

PUBS AS THE PRECURSORS OF THE INTERNET

PUBS IN PRAGUE

THE REGULARS' PUB

TAPROOMS AND POTHOUSES

A DISTANT PUB

THE UNWILLING PUB

WOMEN IN THE PUB

MOBILE PHONES IN PUBS

SMART WATCHES IN THE PUB

LIQUOR IN THE PUB

LEMONADE IN THE PUB

FOOD IN THE PUB

READING IN THE PUB

POLITICS IN THE PUB

CARDS IN THE PUB

THE TASTE OF BEER

SMALL BEER

DRAFT BEER

BITTER BEER

ON MR. CIBICH'S GRAVE

BEER SPA

BEER REBELLION

SMALL BREWERIES

Pubs closing

PROHIBITION

CONCLUSION

IN THE PUB

The pub is lovely — you could write verse,

I try it there when thoughts begin to curse.

I clear my head, no need to roam or shove,

I shed my stress and quietly regain my love.

For a while I set my duties all aside,

let anger ebb, let pressing cares subside.

Bad moods and chores dissolve with every sip,

and with enough refreshment, gloom will drip.

There we dispense advice with practiced art,

we grumble, praise, dissect each broken heart.

We argue football, politics, and fate,

and trade our troubles at the bar’s estate.

To some it’s like a hospital of rest,

a private cot where one can be their best.

To others like a church where spirits mend,

a place to gather strength and make amends.

Few places hold that warm, confiding atmosphere ,

so fit for secrets, laughter, and a prayer.

Women may wonder why we waste our time,

yet men call every minute there sublime.

Beer is our drink — a national delight,

it gives us courage, makes the evening bright.

We need not drink in floods to feel its cheer;

it’s Czech prosperity poured glass by glass here.

Through history, the pub has bound our clan,

it soothed disputes and mended rifts of man.

Great Czech beer, with golden hue and foam,

its hop-sweet scent and cloudy heart feel home.

Tradition pours from every foaming glass,

a simple pleasure none of us surpass.

HISTORY IN THE PUB

Sometimes archaeologists find a bronze old jar,

where ancestors kept bitter brew,

a herbal beer of millet, sour and thin,

in ritual vessel, sacred to begin.

Later the ales grew tastier, more in vogue,

the Middle Ages crowned beer’s golden age.

At the turn of the 14th and 15th centuries, as stories tell,

King Wenceslas walked taverns, guarded well.

Disguised as cook and jester, side by side,

they hunted plots where murderous foes might hide.

They found the villains, justice took its course,

it looks like a farce that saved the king by stealth and force.

Emperor Rudolf II loved the taverns, Krušovice his choice,

the kingdom’s beer that echoed every voice.

And it was two decades

before the end of the sixteenth century.

I also often remember

of Jan Medvídek.

He was a very clever man,

it would make a story,

in the middle of the fifteenth century

he founded a brewery

and I've grown fond of it today.

I really enjoy going there

and gaze at the beer called 1466.

I didn't know what it meant

until the waiter told me

the brewery was completed in that year.

Names of beers recall old tales and men,

they tie the present to the distant when.

When Columbus sailed, U Fleků began,

a half-millennium of ale in hand.

They claim no pub in Prague is lovelier seen,

where old Czech recipes keep memory green.

When there Czechs drank beer they nibbled

garlic on toast — a snack plain.

I went there small, my parents by my side,

we loved the taste though now the price is wide.

Actors, scientists, revivalists there would meet,

Jungmann would sip and sort his thoughts discreet.

And Jan Neruda, with habits odd and neat,

after soup a slivovitz, then dumplings sweet.

He watched the door and sat at his same place,

a quiet sentinel with steady pace.

At Two Cats tucked a modest plaque is state:

„Here was sitting W.A. Mozart“

When did he come here?

When he went to the theater

or when he was coming back?

And how many beers did he drink?

Jaroslav Hašek loved the pub’s loud cheer,

he drank and roamed and wrote the world sincere.

Perhaps without that foam his pen would lack

the genius that we praise and track.

Once at the Golden Tiger, tales are told,

as US President Bill Clinton

with president Havel and writer Hrabal

reportedly drank three Pilsners,

and had a schnitzel with potato pancakes.

All Bohemia is steeped in tavern lore,

at Růže Bílá Goethe sat with Ulrika two centuries before.

She wore a beautiful dress, I wore my worn-out jeans,

yet from that view I sip and trace their scenes.

Famous faces filled these rooms and chairs,

we cannot list them all, though memory spares.

We are the Czechs who gather, laugh, and call

we go to pubs, and there we are, after all.

I WANTED TO BE A INNKEEPER

At times I dreamed, with heart on fire,

of owning a pub — my desire.

To chat with folks from far and near,

show the PM a better way.

BEER PROFESSIONS

PUB IN THE MORNING

EMPTY PUB

PUB ON THE FOOTBALL FIELD

PUB BY THE CHILDREN'S PLAYGROUND

PUB AT THE SWIMMING POOL

PUB BY THE SEA

PUB BY THE RIVER

STATIONARY PUB

STUDENT PUB

SPORTS PUB

GARDEN PUB

WINTER PUB

THE PUB AS A SCIENTIFIC LIBRARY

THE PUB AS A PHARMACY

A PUB LIKE A PASTRY SHOP

MODERN PUB

THE THIEF'S PUB

PUBS AS THE PRECURSORS OF THE INTERNET

PUBS IN PRAGUE

THE REGULARS' PUB

TAPROOMS AND POTHOUSES

A DISTANT PUB

THE UNWILLING PUB

WOMEN IN THE PUB

MOBILE PHONES IN PUBS

SMART WATCHES IN THE PUB

LIQUOR IN THE PUB

LEMONADE IN THE PUB

FOOD IN THE PUB

READING IN THE PUB

POLITICS IN THE PUB

CARDS IN THE PUB

THE TASTE OF BEER

SMALL BEER

DRAFT BEER

BITTER BEER

ON MR. CIBICH'S GRAVE

BEER SPA

BEER REBELLION

SMALL BREWERIES

Pubs closing

PROHIBITION

CONCLUSION