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Saturday, 22 August 2015

Wislawa Szymborska, Poems in English; Landscape; Travel







At four a.m. this morning, I happened to be awake and reading Szymborska's poems (in a Polish dual-language edition, with translations by Magnus J. Krynski and Robert A. Maguire), when I came across her poem "Four in the morning".

It finishes:

"The hollow hour.
Blank, empty.
The very pit of all other hours.

No one feels good at four in the morning.
If ants feel good at four in the morning -
three cheers for the ants. And let five o'clock come
if we're to go on living".


A great poet. She deserved her Nobel Prize.

Soon after seven a.m. I was on my bicycle, heading for my regular walk up to Maiden Castle - a beautiful sunny morning.

But as Szyborska writes in "Travel Elegy":

"All is mine but nothing owned,
nothing owned for memory,
and mine only while I look".

She writes about travel and landscapes enjoyed:

"I won't retain one blade of grass
in sharp contour.

Greeting and farewell
in a single glance..."

All is mine but nothing owned,
nothing owned for memory,
and mine only while I look.









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