black
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Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

Wislawa Szymborska

I’d have to be really quick to describe clouds – a split second’s enough for them to start being something else.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Cloud Description Enough Myself Quick Start
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
I slide my arm from under the sleeper’s head and it is numb, full of swarming pins, on the tip of each, waiting to be counted, the fallen angels sit.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Angel Count Head Myself Sleep
The joy of writing. The power of preserving. Revenge of a mortal hand.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Hands Joy Mortal Perseverance Power Revenge Writing
At the very beginning of my creative life I loved humanity. I wanted to do something good for mankind. Soon I understood that it isn’t possible to save mankind.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Beginning Creativity Humanity Kind Life Love Man Myself Understand
We’re extremely fortunate not to know precisely the kind of world we live in. One would have to live a long, long time, unquestionably longer than the world itself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Fortune Kind Live Precise Question World
Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Choice Decision Kind Perspective
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms, of the mornings that make waking up worthwhile.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Charm Morning Terrify Worth
Such certainty is beautiful, but uncertainty is more beautiful still.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Beautiful Certain Confidence Life Time
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
There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Deep Hide Quite Spiritual
Whatever inspiration is, it’s born from a continuous “I don’t know.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Born Inspirational Myself Unknown
No one in my family has ever died of love. What happened, happened, but nothing myth-inspiring.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Death Family Love Mythical
Poorly prepared for the dignity of life, I barely keep up with the pace of the action imposed. Reality demands.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Action Demand Myself Poor Preparation Reality
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 started earning a living as a poet rather early on.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Live Myself Poet Start

Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

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Somewhere out there the world must have an end.

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