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fb3b42b
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We leven langer, maar minder nauwkeurig en in kortere zinnen.
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modernity
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Wisława Szymborska |
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cdea899
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Las aves domesticas se distinguen de las de corral en que las guardamos en jaulas exclusivamente para satisfacer el placer estetico. El nuestro, claro. Del placer que sienten las aves condenadas a ver a sus duenos, no se nada.
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Wisława Szymborska |
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5cd3bf0
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STARI PROFESOR Upitala sam ga za stara dobra vremena, kada smo bili veoma mladi, naivni, ushiceni, glupi, nespremni. Malo je ostalo od toga, s izuzetkom mladosti - Odgovorio je. Pitala sam ga da li i dalje pouzdano zna, Sta je za covecanstvo dobro a sta lose. To je najsmrtonosnija moguca iluzija - Odgovorio je. Pitala sam ga za buducnost, da li je jos vidi jasno. Procitao sam previse istorijskih knjiga - Odgovorio je. Pitala sam ga za fotog..
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Wisława Szymborska |
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1abf3d8
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Musi byc do wyboru, Zmieniac sie, zeby tylko nic sie nie zmienilo. To latwe, niemozliwe, trudne, warte proby. Oczy ma, jesli trzeba, raz modre, raz szare, Czarne, wesole, bez powodu pelne lez Spi z nim jak pierwsza z brzegu, jedyna na swiecie. Urodzi mu czworo dzieci, zadnych dzieci, jedno. Naiwna, ale najlepiej doradzi. Slaba, ale udzwignie. Nie ma glowy na karku, to bedzie ja miala. Czyta Jaspersa i pisma kobiece. Nie wie po co ta srubka ..
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Wisława Szymborska |
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8674f61
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Poetry Reading To be a boxer, or not to be there at all. O Muse, where are our teeming crowds? Twelve people in the room, eight seats to spare-- it's time to start this cultural affair. Half came inside because it started raining, the rest are relatives. O Muse. The women here would love to rant and rave, but that's for boxing. Here they must behave. Dante's Inferno is ringside nowadays. Likewise his Paradise. O Muse. Oh, not to be a boxer ..
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Wisława Szymborska |
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e499703
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De vreugde van het schrijven.
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Wisława Szymborska |
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08b2bc5
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within the four walls of avalanches, I call out to Yeti. Stomping my feet for warmth on the snow the snow eternal.
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Wisława Szymborska |
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dfc0eee
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E sognerai che non occorre affatto respirare che il silenzio senza respiro e una musica passabile, sei piccolo come una scintilla e ti spegni al ritmo di quella.
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Wisława Szymborska |
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6153744
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Now enter, single file, the hosts who died early on, in Acts 3 and 4, or between scenes. The miraculous return of all those lost without a trace. The thought that they've been waiting patiently offstage without taking off their makeup
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tragedy
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Wisława Szymborska |
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f72ec37
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Quatro bilhoes de pessoas nesta terra, e minha imaginacao e como era. Nao se da bem com grandes numeros.
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Wisława Szymborska |
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9550833
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I've wanted to write about them for a long while, but it's a tricky subject, always put off for later and perhaps worthy of a better poet,
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Wisława Szymborska |
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ddaebed
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The hour between night and day. The hour between toss and turn. The hour of thirty-year-olds. The hour swept clean for roosters' crowing. The hour when the earth takes back its warm embrace. The hour of cool drafts from extinguished stars. The hour of do-we-vanish-too-without-a-trace. Empty hour. Hollow. Vain. Rock bottom of all the other hours. No one feels fine at four a.m. If ants feel fine at four a.m., we're happy for the ants. And let..
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Wisława Szymborska |
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7a1e69c
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Psalm How leaky are the borders of man-made states! How many clouds float over them scot-free, how much desert sand sifts from country to country, how many mountain pebbles roll onto foreign turf in provocative leaps! Need I cite each and every bird as it flies, or alights, as now, on the lowered gate? Even if be a sparrow--its tail is abroad, Though its beak is still home. As if that weren't enough--it keeps fidgeting! Out of countle..
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Wisława Szymborska |
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81da523
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Die - you can't do that to a cat... Something doesn't start at its usual time. Something doesn't happen as it should. Someone was always, always here,
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Wisława Szymborska |
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cba6a56
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Astonishment Why after all this one and not the rest? Why this specific self, not in a nest, But a house? Sewn up not in scales, but skin? Not topped off by a leaf, but by a face? Why on earth now, on Tuesday of all days, And why on earth, pinned down by this star's pin? In spite of years of my not being here? In spite of seas of all these dates and faces, These cells, celestials, and coelenterates? What is it really that made me appear Ne..
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Wisława Szymborska |
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f17b03e
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Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.
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Wisława Szymborska |
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b71ff98
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There's nothing more debauched than thinking.
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Wisława Szymborska |