Wislawa Szymborska (2 July 1923 – 1 February 2012 / Prowent)
Quotations
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''You survived because you were the first.
Wislawa Szymborska (b. 1923), Polish poet. "Any Case," lines 6-11 (1948); tr. By Grazyna Drabik and Sharon Olds (1993). Symborska, who has always lived in Poland, wrote a great deal of protest poetry during the Communist era.
You survived because you were the last.
Because alone. Because the others.
Because on the left. Because on the right.
Because it was raining. Because it was sunny.
Because a shadow fell.'' -
''Whether you want it or not,
Wislawa Szymborska (b. 1923), Polish poet. "Children of the Epoch," lines 6-9, 14-15, translated by Grazyna Drabik and Austin Flint. On Poland during the Communist era. I know that Symborska's first book of poetry was published in 1948, but I don't know whether this poem was in it. In any event, that book was attacked by her government and had to be withdrawn. Neither do I know the date of the translation.
your genes have a political past,
your skin a political tone.
your eyes a political color.
...
you walk with political steps
on political ground.'' -
''History counts its skeletons in round numbers.
Wislawa Szymborska (b. 1923), Polish poet. "Hunger Camp at Jaslo," lines 6-9, 12-13, translated by Grazyna Drabik and Austin Flint. I know that Symborska's first book of poetry was published in 1948, but I don't know whether this poem was in it. In any event, that book was attacked by her government and had to be withdrawn. Neither do I know the date of the translation.
A thousand and one remains a thousand,
as though the one had never existed:
an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle,
...
emptiness running down steps toward the garden,
nobody's place in line.''
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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 t
