Warsaw, Masovian Voivodeship, POL

Hanimal is a Warsaw-based quintet that has blazed a new trail in the folk singer-songwriter tradition, by way of the rehearsal rooms of such names as Feist, PJ Harvey, Grizzly Bear, or Joanna Newsom.


Hanimal is a Warsaw-based quintet that has blazed a new trail in the folk singer-songwriter tradition, by way of the rehearsal rooms of such names as Feist, PJ Harvey, Grizzly Bear, or Joanna Newsom.

It all started with the poems of Magda Malarowska. After a few years, her sister Hanna, wrote music to these pieces and at the beginning of 2011 she formed 5-person band, Hanimal. After their first concert in September 2011, they frequently played in Warsaw cafes and clubs, and later in 2012 as a part of Polish festivals like Off Festival, Warsaw Music Week and Meskie Granie Festival.


Stories of Chivarly and Passion

Written By: Magda Malarowska

There was a man. So much he wanted
He wished one day he would become
The knight, the serious ancient one
Thinking that in his times there was a need
Of men who would fiercely fight
With chivalry and passion

Close the Valves

Written By: Magda Malarowska

It’s so natural, natural
When love pierces you, pierces you
When you feel the running thoughts
And the valves that open up

Close the valves; stop the heart
Let a bloody substance
To go rancid,
Make the thoughts to fade away
Hidden in a stream
Of unconsciousness

You cannot want the love
If someone else does not need it from you
Of course you will feel this love
The thoughts will always come to the surface
And stir up the storms

Clench your fists, try to close the valves
Give your love to people you don’t know
They cannot hurt you so much
They will take your love and give you a smile

Think that the person you love feels compassion
But this soul is not for you
You cannot stand so much of love
Try to enjoy the piercing

Sooner or later you will get used to
The storms will calm down during the days
The thoughts will recur in dreams
But more often give you a rest

You don’t want to love anybody else
We live only once, and love is one
Calm down, you’ll always have the love
Not the person. It shouldn’t matter.
It’s still a friendly soul

Leave a tiny slit between the valves
Allow a minimum of substance
Just to sustain your natural existence

Three Mirrors

Written By: Magda Malarowska

Smash them, shatter to pieces
Raze and topple
I don’t want to look

Three questions
Which drill in me
The hole is deeper
Than the soul
I don’t want to look

Why are you forcing me to study
The opposite person
I don’t know her

Now, you intruders
Why are you spooking my sister
Please, don’t make her to know

No, it’s enough. The two is enough
I don’t want to face the person
Which I am not allowed to love

Mirror, Mirror, Mirror
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Before I will bash my head against your glass

Who I am?
Who my sister is?
Why I am not allowed to love?


Written By: Magda Malarowska

Weird it seems to me?but during today’s night
I am capable of projection
Beam of lemon light?streams away out of my eyes
Through the falling whitish flakes
Slants and settles on the town

Of course, they were a sort of fools
Once I remember a little boy came up to the poet
And asked: “who’s my mother?” she was surprised
“Oh, my little child I think your father is”.

But the boy was a very sensible young man
His brow furrowed in concentration

When one of them died this night
The other three shed light on tears
The one that died was perhaps
The first to love the dream so much.

A verge

Written By: Magda Malarowska

A verge

‘No! Don’t’ jump!’ I implore you to choose my side.
‘Yes, I apprehend.’ I am versed and experienced.
‘I know.’ You think – life is a bloody mess. It aches.
‘Believe me.’ Once I did the same – I stood on the verge.
I was so sure. High time to cross the border, take a rest.
Until I wavered, my foot slipped out and hovered between.
‘Monstrosity!’ I bowed and contemplated the scum in the river.
A quick thought struck my head: ‘What if the mess is underneath?’
It was dreadful to think that such dirtiness happens to exist.
The stream of the river carried the remains of dead meat.

‘Believe me!’ I know what it means, what a pain it is.
I think that your pistol, your pills and drugs, any cuts and stubs,(your rope or cable) are much the same as my careless foot.
(‘I am not kidding!’ I tried it once but never more.)
Sometimes the moment comes to my mind when I wake up and survey my friend’s face.
Never had I felt such a shuddersome apprehension, butterflies in my head.
I thought I knew the face but - it came out I'd been very badly mistaken.
Can you imagine a face tightened with spasms/grimace of terror and grief?
A face that loves you, but hates as well.
(Desires, and fears, needs you but feels deceived.)
My God, it was a real shock treatment, not debris in water.
There was something disturbingly human in the expression.

'Never more!' I don't want to feel like a soulless madman. I am not a psychopath.
‘But why are you so mulish?’ Do you think nobody neither loves you nor hates even?
You are so badly mistaken. It would mean that you don’t care for a girl that jumped, right from this place, yesterday,
nor give a hoot for the kids on a busy road.
I know this is a holy mess. There is so much to do on this side. Give me your hand.

'No! No! No! Better a mass suicide than your crazy jump. 'Please, no.'

1 II 2007


Eps 2013