Thursday, February 2, 2012

In Memory

Wislawa Symborska, Nobel prize-winning poet died yesterday. When the headline caught my eye as I was scanning through publications trying to absorb "the news", little snippets of my favorite poem of hers came to mind:

 Life is the only way
 to get covered in leaves,
 catch your breath on the sand,
 rise on wings;
 to be a dog,
 or stroke its warm fur;
 to tell pain
 from everything it's not;
 to squeeze inside events,
 dawdle in views,
 to seek the least of all possible mistakes.
 
An extraordinary chance
 to remember for a moment
 a conversation held
 with the lamp switched off;
 and if only once
 to stumble upon a stone,
 end up soaked in one downpour or another,
 mislay your keys in the grass;
 and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;
 and to keep on not knowing
 something important.

"A Note" by Wislawa Symborska

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