The Secret Life of Polish Swearwords

michal_rusinek_forum_3.jpg, default, Michał Rusinek & his daughter Natalka present the book ‘How to Swear: A Handbook for Children’, Warsaw, photo: Darek Golik / Forum

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Cursing as a literary device? ‘Well, synecdoche me sideways!’ exclaims Michal Rusinek in his guidebook for children. The more mature Rej and Kochanowski would likely have had some even more rambunctious retorts at hand. Let’s explore when vulgarisms first slipped into literary salons, and under what circumstances one might curse ‘legally’.

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For a curse is the lion’s roar behind the grate,
Its throat explodes with thunder like a storm’s wild breath;
The warden shudders, sensing the frail bars face death,
And the furious beast – threatens his life’s fate.

Thumbnail — ‘Dictionary of Polish Swearwords and Vulgarisms’, author: Maciej Grochowski, photo: PWN Publishing House

They may seem unworthy of attention, let alone of use. They transgress taboos, draw social disapproval, and can cause offence or pain. Yet if forbidden words appear in literary works, circulate in the speech of intellectuals, and even inspire specialised lexicons, should these facts be ignored? Maciej Grochowski, author of Słownika Polskich Przekleństw i Wulgaryzmów (Dictionary of Polish Swearwords and Vulgarisms), recognises the controversy his scholarly work provokes, but argues that such publications foster a deeper linguistic awareness among readers. After all, not everyone knows the difference between an expletive and a swear word, or understands their functions – since they are more than mere insults or outlets for negative emotions – or grasps what lies behind the opposition of ‘courtly’ and ‘coarse’ language. Let us begin with this final point.

In Polish literature, the two adjectives were figuratively contrasted by Mikołaj Rej. In Wizerunek Własny Żywota Człowieka Poczciwego (An Honest Man's Own Description of his Life), he observed: ‘For one is born wrathful, another is lowly / one comes forth as coarse, another born courtly’. In sixteenth‑century Polish, ‘courtly’ denoted refinement, good manners, charm, beauty and perfection. The court was synonymous with elegance, education and high culture, while the position of courtier was reserved for nobles of impeccable breeding. A ‘courtly jest’ was free of offence, while ‘courtly Polish’ was smooth and polite, even charming.

The situation was entirely different with the word ‘coarse’, namely ‘crass’ (as in Rej's poem), ’uncouth, indiscriminate, barbaric’. The ferryman in Klonowic’s poem Flis cracked ‘coarse jokes’, and his jokes full of curses did not gain universal approval. Language researcher Antonina Grybosiowa argues that a linguistic taboo was already in force at the time. It was commonly breached by Rej, Kochanowski and Potocki, as the author of the Dictionary of Polish Swearwords and Vulgarisms stated in an interview with the New Opole Tribune:

What their daily linguistic habits were – this I don’t know. What I do know is that there are expressions of a vulgar nature in their texts. These works obviously do not belong to the canon of school or academic reading, but they do exist.

To verify this statement’s validity, one can simply consult Jacek Lewinson’s Słownika Seksualizmów Polskich (Dictionary of Polish Sexisms) – it contains around 10,000 items illustrated with two thousand quotations from fiction.

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A curse is the cradle where the soul’s awake,
Who has seen that summer shines beyond the night;
It’s a battle cry, a guard prepared to fight,
A sword’s keen edge — and rust upon the stake.

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Cover & inside of ‘How to Curse & Heckle’ by Michał Rusinek, photo: Znak Social Publishing Institute

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It is time to clarify the difference between a vulgarism and a swear word, which are often mistakenly treated as synonymous terms. Grochowski explains that a vulgarism is ‘a lexical unit by means of which the speaker reveals his or her emotions towards something or someone, breaking a linguistic taboo in the process’. He adds that it is most often associated with intimate parts of the body or physiological activities (for example, sexual acts). Etymologically, it is linked to the speech of the common folk: the Latin word vulgaris, meaning ‘common, ordinary, everyday’, derives from the noun vulgus, meaning ‘common people, folk, crowd’. Thus, what was once typical of the general populace became negatively valued and is nowadays considered indecent, blunt or unseemly. The term has transcended linguistics itself, as one can also ‘look’, ‘dress’ or ‘dance’ in a vulgar fashion.

Despite more than 90% of adult Poles declaring offence when others utter uncensored words, as many as eight out of ten admit to using vulgarisms themselves (CBOS poll, 2013). Regarding the extent to which colloquial Polish is saturated with such language, Jan Miodek notes that Poles hold an infamous first place in Europe. Our linguistic creativity in this area is undeniable. Jerzy Bralczyk identified five basic words; the rest are merely variants, combinations, or derivatives. Probably the most famous is the five-letter word beginning with ‘k’, which appears in the Słownik Polszczyzny Rzeczywistej (Dictionary of Real Polish Language) in dozens of communicative functions: from admiration to disapproval, from advice to threat, as an introduction, interlude or reinforcement. Grochowski also includes seemingly innocent words such as bździak (about someone ignored by the speaker), kij (literally ‘stick’) in expressions like kij komuś w oko/ucho and i kij ending an utterance, kit (e.g. the disparaging kit ci w oko!), syn or ‘son’ (the phrase taki synu! is used as a patronising invective), and taki (‘like that’, the genitive version takiego!’ often linked to the so-called Kozakiewicz’s gesture).

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It is poison, a dagger, a flame — it is a pyre,
Where spirits of the dark lie wrapped in mire.
Yet it is a force that stirs new life from death.

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‘Conversation II’ by Marian Olszewski, 1912, photo: Polona National Library

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If someone speaks in a vulgar manner, they are not necessarily swearing – and vice versa. Of course, there can be overlap when a term falls into both categories. According to Grochowski, swearing primarily serves as a spontaneous expression of emotion directed at something or someone, without conveying any informational content. The author identifies three subgroups within this category.

The ‘valorising’ context occurs when we communicate a negative evaluation of a person or action. The ‘instrumental’ function of swearing is motivated by the folk and religious belief in the magical power of words. As Grochowski explains, this relates to the formulation of curses and incantations, which date back to ancient Mesopotamia as attempts to weaken enemies. The Polish verb kląć originates from the Proto-Slavic klęti, meaning ‘to cast a curse, to swear, to speak words having causative power’. A curse, then, was once a commitment – an attempt to shape reality. Finally, the third and most common use of curse words is the ‘expressive’ sense. This is encapsulated in the phrase ‘someone curses’, used to describe spontaneous verbal behaviour where specific sequences of sounds are uttered, typically motivated by emotion or habit, as noted in the Dictionary of Polish Curses and Vulgarisms.

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Inside ‘How to Curse & Heckle’ by Michał Rusinek, photo: Znak Social Publishing Institute

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Among the more interesting and lesser-known examples are the slogans: dunder (as in a niech to dunder świśnie, roughly meaning ‘may he be struck by thunder!’), kaduk (as in kaduka! – an archaic oath roughly translating to ‘by Kaduk!’ – Kaduk being a folkloric or demonic figure), kartacz (as in do stu tysięcy kartaczy!, meaning ‘by a hundred / a hundred thousand grapeshot!’ – a hyperbolic, military-style curse), and the verb potaśtać (as in bodajby go potaśtało!, approximately ‘may he be tossed about!’).

Sometimes, even seemingly neutral nouns can acquire a rude or expressive connotation in colloquial speech. Examples include drzwi (as in bodajby kogoś drzwi ścisnęły! – ‘I hope they get slammed by a door!’), kuchnia – ordinarily meaning ‘kitchen’, but here functioning as a euphemism or interjected mild expletive in phrases such as Czyś ty, kuchnia, z byka spadł? (approximately ‘Did you, you kitchen, just fall off the back of a bull?’), and kurtka na wacie! (‘You jacket filled with cotton!’) – used as a mild or humorous expletive.

While there is no scientific evidence of swearing in the animal kingdom, animals frequently appear in uncultured expressions. The now-legendary motyla noga (literally ‘butterfly leg’, figuratively equivalent to ‘jiminy cricket’) known from the comedy Miś by Stanisław Bareja was presented in a very negative light in the film. Other limbs also appear in curses, such as kurza stopa (literally ‘chicken foot!’), also used in the variants ‘chicken melody’, ‘chicken leg’ and ‘chicken face’, or na krowie kopytko (‘on a cow’s hoof!’). References to dogs frequently occur, most often as parenthetical interjections, such as psiadusza (‘dogsoul!’), psiakostka (literally ‘dog bone’, equivalent to the English ‘doggone it!’), psiakrew (‘dogblood!’), and psianoga (‘dogleg!’). In Polish, the goldfish is not the only animal capable of granting wishes; a goose (‘may he get kicked by a goose!’) and a duck (‘may he be trampled by ducks!’) also feature in curses.

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It is a hymn, a prayer to powers eternal,
Once cast down in envy from heights supernal,
Who wrest from the heavens the gods’ own thunderbolts.

Why do we use garish language? Jadwiga Kowalikowa, a linguist from the Jagiellonian University, presented the results of a survey in her dissertation on vulgarisation in contemporary Polish. The survey was conducted among Polish language students, who were asked about their reasons for using unseemly words – both when spoken by others and themselves. Most commonly, they cited the need to relieve stress and liberate themselves from the constraints of social conventions. Additionally, they expressed a natural desire to break away from the university’s atmosphere of high culture and descend ‘to the ground floor and mundanity of daily life’. They also seek strong yet economical means of expressing their views, intentions and feelings. Some are motivated by nonchalance or a wish to assert their right to freedom of speech. Others act out of spite towards critics of vulgarity. Some succumb to fashion, others wish to taste the forbidden fruit, and some fear rejection by certain social groups.

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Still from the film ‘Day of the Wacko’, directed by Marek Koterski, 2002, pictured: Michał Koterski & Marek Kondrat, photo: Vision Film

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However, not everyone uses expletives consciously. Recklessness can lead to obscene words being employed in improper, non-dictionary senses. Kowalikowa cites the example of the career of a word originally describing the world’s oldest profession. Today, it most often appears as an interlude, a reflective sigh or a moan, such as a popular scene in Marek Koterski’s Dzień Świra (Day of the Wacko) depicting a conversation between a father and son. The characters in Juliusz Machulski’s Sexmission might also be privy to the magical function of ugly words – there, a popular expletive serves as a lift’s access code.

Some treat coarse language as a comedic device. Vulgarisms are then used as quotations, for example in song lyrics or folk jokes. They do not necessarily have to be uttered in full – sometimes a suitably structured context, an allusion or even a single letter suffices for the listener to read between the lines. Grybosiowa describes a similar pastime:

This game, based on non-literalism and full of finesse and panache, was taught to the Polish intelligentsia [...] by the creators of cabaret texts, including classic poets of the genre such as Konstanty Ildefons Gałczyński and Jeremi Przybora. The game involved exploiting a headline, one or several vowels of a taboo word, and adding an innocent-sounding sequence of morphemes to form a neutral word. This created suspense – suspension, anticipation, and an unexpected resolution. Recall Gałczyński’s ‘sk-umbrie in tomato sauce’ or Przybora’s Portuguese-inspired ‘O-scu-lati’.

The colourful language of literary texts is sometimes stylised but more often realistically reflects contemporary Polish speech. Consider the reportage of Zimowit Szczerek or the novels of Dorota Masłowska and Michał Witkowski. Poets unafraid of blunt expressions include Marcin Świetlicki and Jacek Podsiadło, especially earlier in their careers. Before them, the front-runners were Andrzej Bursa, Rafał Wojaczek and even Edward Stachura, whose egocentric personalities earned them labels such as ‘stuntmen of literature’ or ‘cursed poets’ (terms coined by Jan Marx). And it all began with the piquant epigrams of Kochanowski and Rej, together with the obscene phrases of Jan Chryzostom Pasek.

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A sharp retort to the increasing brutalisation of the Polish language came in 2008 from Michał Rusinek, who wrote Jak Przeklinać: Poradnik dla Dzieci (How to Swear: A Handbook for Children). What is his advice? In theory, it is to play with words, creatively inventing alternative linguistic constructions that help us vent our emotions. It is through emotions that we take a closer look at the world and at ourselves:

Do not bite or break what’s near,
but trap your rage in words so clear,
they’d never fit a normal ear.

In practice, Rusinek suggests a handful of playful expressions with which to impress one’s peers. These include: cięcielina pała (‘flibber-flap failstick’), ty ciarko przechodząca (‘you shivery timber’), kwakwa-rakwa (‘quack-quack-ratattack’), do stu tysięcy niewyspótanych wróbelków (‘zillion sleepy sparrow-puffs!’), skulejko jasna (‘gnarly crumbbucket!’), a niech to synekdocha (‘well synecdoche me sideways’), o rozpiska (‘oh scratch!’), a niech to fafną gżdryce (‘what in the fizzy fluffernoodles!’), and do fiołka-aniołka (‘by the violet-cherub’s whiskers!’). Jerzy Bralczyk commented on Rusinek's guidebook as follows:

When it’s hard to be quiet, I can curse in such a way as to channel the force of anger where it might be useful. If only to amuse. Few things give as much amusement as well-used language.

The consecutively quoted poem stanzas come from the volume ‘Curses’ by the Young Poland poet and philosopher-mystic Antoni Lange.

_{^{Originally written in Polish, translated by Michał Niedzielski, June 2025}}

_{^{Sources: ‘Słownik polskich przekleństw i wulgaryzmów’ by Maciej Grochowski, Warsaw 1995; ‘Liberalizacja społecznej oceny wulgaryzmów’ by Antonina Grybosiowa, in: ‘Język wtopiony w rzeczywistość’, Katowice 2003; ‘Estetizowanie wulgaryzmów’ by Małgorzata Kita, in: ‘Stylistics’, vol. 25, 2006; ‘O wulgaryzacji i dewulgaryzacji we współczesnej polszczyźnie’ by Jadwiga Kowalikowa, in: ‘Język a Kultura’, vol. 20, Wrocław 2008; ‘Jak przeklinać? Poradnik dla dzieci’ by Michał Rusinek, Kraków 2008; nto.pl.}}

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