Under One Small Star Poem by 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 stations for being asleep today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don't rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table's four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don't pay me much attention.
Dignity, please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.
Soul, don't take offense that I've only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can't be each woman and each man.
I know I won't be justified as long as I live,
since I myself stand in my own way.
Don't bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
then labor heavily so that they may seem light.
I think Szymborska, steeped in the history of her country, knows the world hard but also knows she has to live beyond its horrors. Her way is by being a poet. The last two lines express her joy almost beyond guilt in making a poem even out of tragedy.
humbly wonderful! keep writing! could you read and comment on my poems too?
I have no comments at this moment, except for the fact that the poem touches my heart. I have a question: what does the two last lines of the poem mean? Can anyone explain them to me.
She is apologetic throughout the poem, lamenting everything she took for granted, explaining with her apologies how the world brought her joy. As a poet, she works to keep the message lighthearted although her words carry serious weight.
Deep and exquisitely drafted is this poetry of yours. A work of an intricate mind
[FOR USA]Start working from home! Great work for-Ever, Stay at Home Moms OR anyone needs an extra income. Get started. You only need a computer and a reliable computer connection so don't get late try1…… 𝐰𝐰𝐰.𝐏𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐭𝟐.𝐜𝐨𝐦
thoroughly this is one kind of insightful poem; great to read this again and again
My apologies to the felled tree for the table's four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. - - - - - - We can not be every thing at the same time no matter how we wish.There are necessities for us to survive- We can not satisfy everbody- -We have to be ourselves- -A great poem indeed.
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. - - - - -I am reading Szymborska[s poems for the fist time and it impresses me greatly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
10/7/2024 12:14:45 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I'm Polish so i can read Szymborska's poems in original. And what I think about this poem (after re-reading it in Polish) it's that it is about ourselves. We all think that our matters are the most important. As the humanity thinks that solar system is the centre of the universe. Everyone lives under 'one small star' which twinkles outside his or her window. And this poem is about it - about the shame and comprehention. Every person has its own universe... (sorry for mistakes - English is not my mother language) .