Showing posts with label Wislawa Szymborska. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wislawa Szymborska. Show all posts
Friday, December 18, 2015
Vermeer by Wislawa Symborska
Vermeer
So long as that woman from the Rijksmuseum
in painted quiet and concentration
keeps pouring milk day after day
from the pitcher to the bowl
the World hasn't earned
the world's end.
(from her collection, Here)
Labels:
Vermeer,
Wislawa Szymborska
Friday, May 17, 2013
"If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean." - Wislawa Szymborska
IN PRAISE OF FEELING BAD ABOUT YOURSELF
The buzzard never says it is to blame.
The panther wouldn't know what scruples mean.
When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame.
If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean.
A jackal doesn't understand remorse.
Lions and lice don't waver in their course.
Why should they, when they know they're right?
Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton,
in ever other way they're light.
On this third planet of the sun
among the signs of bestiality
a clear conscience is Number One.
-Wislawa Szymborska (translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh). From Poems New and Collected
The buzzard never says it is to blame.
The panther wouldn't know what scruples mean.
When the piranha strikes, it feels no shame.
If snakes had hands, they'd claim their hands were clean.
A jackal doesn't understand remorse.
Lions and lice don't waver in their course.
Why should they, when they know they're right?
Though hearts of killer whales may weigh a ton,
in ever other way they're light.
On this third planet of the sun
among the signs of bestiality
a clear conscience is Number One.
-Wislawa Szymborska (translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh). From Poems New and Collected
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Wislawa Szymborska, 1923-2012 |
Labels:
poetry,
Polish literature,
Wislawa Szymborska
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