He came home. Said nothing.
It was clear, though, that something had gone wrong.
He lay down fully dressed.
Pulled the blanket over his head.
Tucked up his knees.
He's nearly forty, but not at the moment.
He exists just as he did inside his mother's womb,
clad in seven walls of skin, in sheltered darkness.
Tomorrow he'll give a lecture
on homeostasis in metagalactic cosmonautics.
For now, though, he has curled up and gone to sleep.
Such a fine poem from Wislawa Szymborska👍👍👍
The last line is disappointing.
Words written so beautifully it is like a conversation. May you RIP
'He has curled up. Going home! ! Thanks for sharing.
Hum, our minds always incline to home as there are our roots, ............ great done
He lay down and pulled the blanket over his head and tucked up his knees, with an air of being at home though he is nearly forty he is now dreaming like a baby in the safest place of his mother's womb as home........such a cool and calm and refreshing piece......very well scripted indeed.....thanks for sharing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
The wisdom of a good woman. Cherishing her man even in his dark moments where he'd rather not be a man but a babe in the womb responsible for nothing. What a poet! !