Poems

Under One Small Star

By: Wislawa Szymborska

My apologies to chance for calling it necessity.

My apologies to necessity if I'm mistaken, after all.

Please, don't be angry happiness, that I take you as my due.

May my dead be patient with the way memories fade.

My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.

My apologies to past loves for thinking the latest is the first.

Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.

Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.

I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.

I apologize to those waiting in railway stations for being asleep today at 5am.

Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.

Pardon me, deserts, that I don't rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.

And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,

your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,

forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.

My apologies to the felled tree for the tables four legs.

My apologies to the great questions for small answers.

Truth, please, don't pay me much attention.

Dignity, please be magnanimous.

Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.

Soul, don't take offense, that I've only got you now and then.

My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere at once.

My apologies to everyone that I can't be each woman and each man.

I know I won't be justified for as long as I live,

Since I myself stand in my way.

Don't bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,

labor heavily so that they may seem soft.