My contemporaries like small objects,
dried starfish that have forgotten the sea,
melancholy stopped clocks, postcards
sent from vanished cities,
and blackened with illegible script,
in which they discern words
like ‘yearning,’ ‘illness,’ or ‘the end.
They marvel at dormant volcanoes.
They don’t desire light.
— Adam Zagajewski, “Small Objects,” Eternal Enemies: Poems. Trans. by Clare Cavanagh (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; 1 edition March 31, 2009)