there’s always a little joy, and even beauty lies close at hand, beneath the bark of every hour, in the quiet heart of concentration, and another person hides in each of us — universal, strong, invincible. — Adam Zagajewski, from “Three Angels,” Pangolin House, Spring 2014. Translated by Clare Cavanagh Advertisements
My distinguishing marks are wonder and despair. — Wisława Szymborska, from “The Sky,” People on a Bridge. (Forest Books; First Edition edition, April 1, 1990) Originally published 1986,
Love means to learn to look at yourself The way one looks at distant things For you are only one thing among many. And whoever sees that way heals his heart, Without knowing it, from various ills A bird and a tree say to him: Friend. Then he wants to use himself and things So… Continue reading Czeslaw Milosz
Meaning When I die, I will see the lining of the world. The other side, beyond bird, mountain, sunset. The true meaning, ready to be decoded. What never added up will add up, What was incomprehensible will be comprehended. And if there is no lining to the world? If a thrush on a branch is… Continue reading Czeslaw Milosz
It appears that it was all a misunderstanding.What was only a trial run was taken seriously.The rivers will return to their beginnings.The wind will cease in its turning about.Trees instead of budding will tend to their roots.Old men will chase a ball, a glance in the mirror–They are children again.The dead will wake up, not… Continue reading Czeslaw Milosz
I’ve learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what’s unsaid, what’s underneath. Understanding on another level of being. — Anna Kamieńska, from “A Nest of Quiet: A Notebook,” transl. Clare Cavanagh, Poetry (May 2012)
Somewhere unwritten poems wait, like lonely lakes not seen by anyone. — Anna Kamieńska, from her notebook (1968), Astonishments, trans Grażyna Drabik and David Curzon (Paraclete Press, 2008)
