The world – whatever we might think when terrified by its vastness and our own impotence, or embittered by its indifference to individual suffering, … - Wisława Szymborska

The world, whatever we might think about it terrified by its vastness and by our helplessness in the face of it, embittered by its indifference to individual suffering — of people, animals, and perhaps also plants, for how can we be sure that plants are free of suffering; whatever we might think about its spaces pierced by the radiation of stars, stars around which we now have begun to discover planets, already dead? still dead? — we don’t know; whatever we might think about this immense theater, to which we may have a ticket, but it is valid for a ridiculously brief time, limited by two decisive dates; whatever else we might think about this world — it is amazing.

The world — whatever we might think when terrified by its vastness and our own impotence, or embittered by its indifference to individual suffering, of people, animals, and perhaps even plants, for why are we so sure that plants feel no pain; whatever we might think of its expanses pierced by the rays of stars surrounded by planets we've just begun to discover, planets already dead? still dead? we just don't know; whatever we might think of this measureless theater to which we've got reserved tickets, but tickets whose lifespan is laughably short, bounded as it is by two arbitrary dates; whatever else we might think of this world — it is astonishing.

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

Vislava Šimborska, Prva ljubav

So he's got to have happiness, he's got to have truth, too, he's got to have eternity — did you ever!

اليقظة لا تتلاشى
.كما تتلاشى الأحلام
لا همهمة ولا جرس
،يُبددها
لا صرخة أو جلبة
.تصدر عنها

مُشوشة ومُلتبسة
،هي صورُ الأحلام
.مما يدفع لتفسيرها بطرقٍ عديدة ومختلفة
،اليقظةُ تعني اليقظة
.وهذا هو اللغز الأكبر

للأحلام مفاتيح
،اليقظة تنفتح وحدها
.ولا تسمح بإغلاقها
،تتناثر منها الشهادات المدرسية والنجوم
تتساقط منها الفراشات
،وسخانات المكاوي القديمة
والقبعات بلا رؤوسها
.وجماجم الغيوم
يتكون من ذلك لغز
.لا يمكن حله

.بدوننا ما كان للأحلام أن تكون
والذي بدونه ما كانت اليقظة
،غيرُ معلوم
ونتاجُ أرقهِ
.يستغرق كل من يستيقظ

،ليست الأحلام هي المجنونة
،المجنونة اليقظة
،ولو بسبب الإصرار
الذي به تتشبث
.بمسيرة الأحداث

في الأحلام مازال
،يعيش من مات منا حديثا
يبدو أنه معافى
.ويتمتع بالشباب
اليقظة تطرح أمامنا
.جسده الميت
.اليقظة لا تتراجع قيد أنملة

،أثيرية الأحلام تجعل
.الذاكرة تتخلص منها بسهولة
.اليقظة لا تخاف من النسيان

يا لها من صلابة
،تتربع على كاهلنا
،تُثقل الصدر
.تتكوم تحت القدمين

،لا مفر منها
لأنها تُصاحبنا في كل مهرب
وليس هناك من محطة
على طريق رحلتنا
.دون أن تنتظرنا فيها