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I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.

Wislawa Szymborska

God was finally going to believe in a man both good and strong, but good and strong are still two different men.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Believe Different God Goodness Man Strong
Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Death Easy Faith Live
Loveless work, boring work, work valued only because others haven’t got even that much, however loveless and boring – this is one of the harshest human miseries.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Boredom Human Love Misery Work
When it comes, you’ll be dreaming that you don’t need to breathe; that breathless silence is the music of the dark and it’s part of the rhythm to vanish like a spark.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Breathe Darkness Dreams Music Need Rhythm Spark
What does the world get from two people/who exist in a world of their own?
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Existence People World
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Charm Morning Terrify Worth
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.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Disappear Start Stay Stubborn Time
Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Choice Decision Kind Perspective
No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with precisely the same kisses.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bliss Kiss Past Teaching Time Way
Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Common Poet Publish Reading Understand
I’m working on the world, revised, improved edition, featuring fun for fools blues for brooders, combs for bald pates, tricks for old dogs.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Dog Edition Myself Old Revision Work World
I am a tarsier and a tarsier’s son, the grandson and great-grandson of tarsiers, a tiny creature, made up of two pupils and whatever simply could not be left out.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Creature Myself Simplicity Son
I’m old-fashioned and think that reading books is the most glorious pastime that humankind has yet devised.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Book Fashion Myself Old Past Reading Thinking Time
After every war someone has to tidy up.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Clean Deep Hurt War
All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Memories Myself Search
My choices are rejections, since there is no other way, but what I reject is more numerous, denser, more demanding than before. A little poem, a sigh, at the cost of indescribable losses.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Choice Demand Loss Myself Rejection Way

I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.

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I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.

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