Wislawa Szymborska

(2 July 1923 – 1 February 2012 / Prowent)

Wislawa Szymborska Poems

1. First Love 7/10/2015
2. Two Monkeys by Brueghel 9/30/2015
3. Vermeer 9/29/2015
4. Photograph From September 11 8/22/2014
5. Pi 12/4/2015
6. Going Home 1/9/2015
7. Hatred 3/14/2015
8. Dreams 2/3/2012
9. Utopia 2/2/2012
10. A Great Man's House 2/3/2012
11. Identification 2/3/2012
12. Some People 2/3/2012
13. Negative 2/3/2012
14. The Joy Of Writing 2/3/2012
15. True Love 2/3/2012
16. A 'Thank You' Note 8/26/2015
17. Miracle Fair 2/3/2012
18. Clouds 2/3/2012
19. Poetry Reading 2/3/2012
20. Consolation 2/3/2012
21. The Silence Of Plants 2/3/2012
22. Advertisement 2/3/2012
23. Birthday 2/3/2012
24. Children Of Our Age 2/3/2012
25. Could Have 2/3/2012
26. The End And The Beginning 2/3/2012
27. Three Oddest Words 2/3/2012
28. On Death, Without Exaggeration 2/3/2012
29. Tortures 1/13/2003
30. Possibilities 2/3/2012
31. Nothing Twice 2/3/2012
32. Still 1/13/2003
33. Hunger Camp At Jaslo 1/13/2003
34. A Few Words On The Soul 2/3/2012
35. Lot's Wife 1/20/2003
36. Some Like Poetry 1/13/2003
37. Under One Small Star 1/20/2003
Best Poem of Wislawa Szymborska

Under One Small Star

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I'm mistaken, after all.
Please, don't be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway ...

Read the full of Under One Small Star

Lot's Wife

They say I looked back out of curiosity.
But I could have had other reasons.
I looked back mourning my silver bowl.
Carelessly, while tying my sandal strap.
So I wouldn't have to keep staring at the righteous nape
of my husband Lot's neck.
From the sudden conviction that if I dropped dead
he wouldn't so much as hesitate.
From the disobedience of the meek.

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