(Nobel Literature of Poetry, 1996.)
http://poem.hunter.com
2 poems by wislava szymborska:
first love + true love
and mine only while I look."-- W. SZYMBORSKA (Nobel.prize. org)
FIRST LOVE
TRANSLATED. BY JOANNA TRZECIAL
They say
the first love is the most important
They's very romantic
but it's not the case with me.
There was something
between us yet there wan't
It transpired and expired.
My hands don't tremble,
When I stumble upon small momentos
or a stack of letters .
wrapped in twine
-- not even ribbon.
Our only meeting after all these years
is a conversation between two chairs
at a cold table.
Other loves
still breathe deeply within me
This one backs the breathe to sigh.
But still, just the way it is
it can do what the rest are not yet able to do.
unremembered
not even of dreamt
it accustoms me to death.
TRUE LOVE
True love. It is normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?
Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way -- in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.
Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing -- it's an insult.
The language they use -- deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines --
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!
It's hard even to guess how far things might go
it people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?
True love. It is really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.
Let people who never find true love
keep saying that there's no such thing.
Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.
Wislava Szymborska
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