black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.

Wislawa Szymborska

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
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
In every tragedy, an element of comedy is preserved. Comedy is just tragedy reversed.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Comedy Element Preserve Tragedy
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
Carry on, then, if only for the moment that it takes a tiny galaxy to blink!
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Blink Carry Funny Galaxy Moments
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
All the best have something in common, a regard for reality, an agreement to its primacy over the imagination.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Agreement Best Common Imagination Reality Regard
There is so much Everything that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Deep Hide Quite Spiritual
Memory at last has what I sought.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Last Memories Myself Thinking
When I pronounce the word Future, the first syllable already belongs to the past. When I pronounce the word Silence, I destroy it.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Destroy Future Myself Past Silence Word
There’s simply too much fuss about myself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Confusion Mess Myself Simplicity
I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bad Fight Myself Poet Word
I cannot speak for more than an hour exclusively about poetry. At that point, life itself takes over again.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Poetry Point Talk
I don’t know the role I’m playing. I only know it’s mine, non-convertible.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Play Role
It’s just not easy to explain to someone else what you don’t understand yourself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Easy Explanation Understand Yourself

All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.

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All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.

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