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A Note by Wislawa Szymborska

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.

(Translated from Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh)
#poetry