wislawa symborska

The Acrobat

From trapeze to
to trapeze, in the hush that
that follows the drum roll's sudden pause, through
through the startled air, more swiftly than
than his body's weight, which once again
again is late for its own fall

Solo. Or even less than solo,
less, because he's crippled, missing
missing wings, missing them so much
that he can't miss the chance
to soar on shamefully unfeathered
naked vigilance alone.

Arduous ease,
watchful ability,
and calculated inspiration. Do you see
how he waits to punce in flight; do you know
how he plots from head to toe
against his very being; do you know, do you see
hwo cunningly he weaves himself through his own former shape
and works to seize this swaying world
by stretching out the arms he has conceived -

beautiful beyond belief at this passing
at this very passing moment that's just passed

trans by stanislaw baranczak and clare cavanagh

wislawa symborska

Utopia

Island where all becomes clear.

Solid ground beneath your feet.

The only roads are those that offer access.

Bushes bend beneath the weight of proofs.

The Tree of Valid Supposition grows here
with branches disentangled since time immemorial.

The Tree of Understanding, dazzlingly straight and simple,
sprouts by the spring called Now I Get It.

The thicker the woods, the vaster the vista:
the Valley of Obviously.

If any doubts arise, the wind dispels them instantly.

Echoes stir unsummoned
and eagerly explain all the secrets of the worlds.

On the right a cave where Meaning lies.

On the left the Lake of Deep Conviction.
Truth breaks from the bottom and bobs to the surface.

Unshakable Confidence towers over the valley.
Its peak offers an excellent view of the Essence of Things.

For all its charms, the island is uninhabited,
and the faint footprints scattered on its beaches
turn without exception to the sea.

As if all you can do here is leave
and plunge, never to return, into the depths.

Into unfathomable life.

transby S Baranczak and C Cavanagh

and made available by those nice nobel people
and because it's the time of year when i need to shake the moths out of my crap swedish here it is in swedish

Utopia

En ö där allting bara klarnar.

Här kan man stå på bevisens grund.

Den enda väg här finns är den framkomliga vägen.

Buskarna bara dignar under alla svaren.

Här växer Riktiga Förmodans träd
med sina sedan gammalt utredda grenar.

Det storstilat raka Förståelsens träd
vid källan som heter Å På Så Vis.

Ju längre in i snåren, ju bredare öppnar sig
Självklarhetens dal.

Finns det något tvivel, så skingras det av vinden.

Ekot tar till orda utan anrop,
förklarar så gärna världarnas hemligheter.

Till höger en grotta; där ligger själva meningen.

Till vänster Djupaste Övertygelsens sjö.
Sanningen lättar från botten och flyter upp i dagen.

Dalen behärskas av Bergfasta Förvissningen.
På spetsen sitter Springande Punkten.

Ön är trots sin tjusning öde,
och på stranden syns små märken av fötter,
samtliga vända i riktning mot havet.

Som om man bara begett sig härifrån
och utan återvändo sänkt sig i djupet.

I ett liv man inte begriper.

trans by Anders Bodegård

wyslawa symborska

True Love

True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions but convinced
it had to happen this way - in reward for what?
For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not on others?
Doesn't this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn't it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn't they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends' sake?
Listen to them laughing - its an insult.
The language they use - deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines -
it's obviously a plot behind the human race's back!

It's hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? What renounced?
Who'd want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life's highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn't populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

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.