The most beautiful is the object
which does not exist
Zbigniew Herbert
The world lies in its indifferent
light of activity - clocks
confuse me with precision
stars splutter under my microscope
there is no snow
in the darkness I bring
the snow with a howling wind
my storms break the gentle flowers
there is no man
I place a figure
on an endless track
in the wind and snow
there is no goal
a flag is set fluttering somewhere
on the edge of the world:
a star above the snow ridge?
a mirage dancing on the ice?
there is no hope
my figure in the snow
moves forward across blind wastes
he will never reach
my limits of reality
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The most beautiful poem and it likes.