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Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

Wislawa Szymborska

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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
Secret codes resound. Doubts and intentions come to light.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Code Light Secret
I started earning a living as a poet rather early on.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

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

Easy Explanation Understand Yourself
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
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
They say the first sentence in any speech is always the hardest. Well, that one’s behind me, anyway.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Hard Myself Oneself Sentence
I don’t know the role I’m playing. I only know it’s mine, non-convertible.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Play Role
Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Death Easy Finding Live Love People True
Is a decision made in advance really any kind of choice?
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Choice Decision Kind Perspective
You can find the entire cosmos lurking in its least remarkable objects.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Cosmos Finding Inspirational Nature Object Remark Yourself
Somewhere out there the world must have an end.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Cosmos End Space World
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Chaos Hell Myself Order Preference
I’m drowning in papers.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Drown Myself One Liner Paper Poet
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
And whatever I do will become forever what I’ve done.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Forever Myself Perspective Willing
Whatever inspiration is, it’s born from a continuous “I don’t know.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Born Inspirational Myself Unknown
I’m fighting against the bad poet who is prone to using too many words.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bad Fight Myself Poet Word
Life lasts but a few scratches of the claw in the sand.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Land Life Scratch Time
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’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bone Myself Time
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
Nothing’s a gift, it’s all on loan.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Gift Loan One Liner Perspective
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
All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Memories Myself Search
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

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