Wisława Szymborska Quotes

Buscar sinceridad en unas memorias carece de sentido. Mejor sería preguntarse qué versión de uno mismo y del mundo ha escogido el autor, dado que siempre hay posibilidad de elegir.

Hay tanto de Todo
que lo que hay de Nada queda muy bien cubierto.

Prva ljubav

Kažu,
da je prva ljubav najvažnija.
Veoma romantično,
ali ne u mom slučaju.

Nešto je među nama bilo, i nije bilo,
dogodilo se i zagubilo.

Ne drhte mi ruke,
kad naiđem na sitne uspomene
i svežanj pisama povezan kanapčićem
- iako bi bilo bolje da je mašnicom.

Naš jedini susret, posle mnogo godina,
bio je razgovor dveju stolica
za hladnim stočićem.

Druge ljubavi,
sve dosad, duboko dišu u meni.
Ovoj nedostaje dah da bi uzdahnula.

Međutim, upravo takva kakva je,
uspeva, što ostalim još uvek, ne uspeva:
da me neupamćena,
čak nesanjana,
miri sa smrću.

עשרים ושבע עצמות,
שלשים וחמישה שרירים
יש בכל כרית של אצבעותינו החמש.
הרי זה די והותר,
כדי לכתוב את ״מיין קאמף״
או את ״פו הדב״.

A vida dura o tempo de umas marcas de garra na areia.

A thousand and one is still only a thousand. That one seems never to have existed: a

Memory Finally Memory’s finally found what it was after. My mother has turned up, my father has been spotted. I dreamed up a table and two chairs. They sat. They were mine again, alive again for me. The two lamps of their faces gleamed at dusk as if for Rembrandt. Only now can I begin to tell in how many dreams they’ve wandered, in how many crowds I dragged them out from underneath the wheels, in how many deathbeds they moaned with me at their side. Cut off, they grew back, but never straight. The absurdity drove them to disguises. So what if they felt no pain outside me, they still ached within me. In my dreams, gawking crowds heard me call out Mom to a bouncing, chirping thing up on a branch. They made fun of my father’s hair in pigtails. I woke up ashamed. So, finally. One ordinary Friday night they suddenly came back exactly as I wanted. In a dream, but somehow freed from dreams, obeying just themselves and nothing else. In the picture’s background possibilities grew dim, accidents lacked the necessary shape. Only they shone, beautiful because just like themselves. They appeared to me for a long, long, happy time. I woke up. I opened my eyes. I touched the world, a chiseled picture frame.

The track’s all yours. We won’t get in your way: by then we will have set off chasing ourselves rather than you.

They’ll reenter their lives’ cages, where love’s tiger sometimes rages, but the beast’s too tame to bite. We’ll

Dimenticano che la vita non è qui.
Altre leggi, nero su bianco, vigono qui.
Un batter d’occhio durerà quanto dico io,
si lascerà dividere in piccole eternità
piene di pallottole fermate in volo.
Non una cosa avverrà qui se non voglio.
Senza il mio assenso non cadrà foglia,
né si piegherà stelo sotto il punto del piccolo zoccolo.

C’è dunque un mondo di cui reggo le sorti indipendenti?
Un tempo che lego con catene di segni?
Un esistere a mio comando incessante?
La gioia di scrivere.
Il potere di perpetuare.
La vendetta d’una mano mortale.

Only what is human can truly be foreign.
The rest is mixed vegetation, subversive moles, and wind.

Die - you can't do that to a cat...

Something doesn't start
at its usual time.
Something doesn't happen
as it should.
Someone was always, always here,
then suddenly disappeared
and stubbornly stays disappeared.

But human beings are, by nature, sad.
So be it, then. It isn't all that bad.

Here I am, Cassandra.
And this is my city under ashes.
And these are my prophet's staff and ribbons.
And this is my head full of doubts.

NIŠTA DVAPUT

Dvaput se ništa ne događa
niti će se dogoditi. Zbog toga
neuvežbani smo se rodili
i nerutinski pomrećemo.

Makar učenici
najgluplji u školi sveta bili,
nijednu zimu ni leto
nećemo ponavljati.

Nijedan dan se neće ponoviti,
dve slične noći ne postoje,
ni dva ista poljupca,
ni dva jednaka pogleda u oči.

Juče, kada ime tvoje
neko kraj mene glasno izgovori,
bi mi kao da ruža
kroz otvoren prozor pade.

Danas, kada smo zajedno,
okrenula sam lice ka zidu.
Ruža? Kako izgleda ruža?
Da li je to cvet? A možda je kamen?

Zbog čega se, trenu crni,
s nepotrebnom zebnjom mešaš?
Postojiš - prema tome moraš proći.
Proći - prema tome to je lepo.

Nasmejani, zagrljeni,
pokušavamo sklad da nađemo,
iako se kao dve kapi čiste vode
razlikujemo.