Here: Poems - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA (1923–2012) was born in Poland and worked as a poetry editor, translator, and columnist. She was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1996. Her books include View with a Grain of Sand, Here, The Acrobat, Monologue of a Dog, and Map: Collected and Last Poems, and Poems New and Collected: 1957–1997.

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Praise for Wislawa Szymborska

“She teaches us how the world defies and evades the names we give it.” –Edward Hirsch

“Accessible and deeply human…A poet to live with.” –Robert Hass

“A subtle, even a subversive muse of vulnerability and a great European poet.” –Richard Howard

Aus dem Klappentext

A new book of poems by Wislawa Szymborska is an occasion to celebrate. These twenty-seven poems consider life on earth, from the microbe to the apocalypse. Along the way they take in, among other objects of study, the human teenager, divorce, Ella Fitzgerald, Vermeer s Milkmaid, dreams, traffic accidents, Greek statues, TV miniseries, the vagaries of memory, Madame Atropos, and even poetry writing. A book to treasure, from a virtuoso of form, line, and thought. "

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Here
I can't speak for elsewhere,
but here on Earth we've got a fair supply of everything.
Here we manufacture chairs and sorrows,
scissors, tenderness, transistors, violins,
teacups, dams, and quips.

There may be more of everything elsewhere,
but for reasons left unspecified they lack paintings,
picture tubes, pierogies, handkerchiefs for tears.

Here we have countless places with vicinities.
You may take a liking to some,
give them pet names,
protect them from harm.

There may be comparable places elsewhere,
but no one thinks they're beautiful.

Like nowhere else, or almost nowhere,
you're given your own torso here,
equipped with the accessories required
for adding your own children to the rest.
Not to mention arms, legs, and astounded head.

Ignorance works overtime here,
something is always being counted, compared, measured,
from which roots and conclusions are then drawn.

I know, I know what you're thinking.
Nothing here can last,
since from and to time immemorial the elements hold sway.
But see, even the elements grow weary
and sometimes take extended breaks
before starting up again.

And I know what you're thinking next.
Wars, wars, wars.
But there are pauses in between them too.
Attention! — people are evil.
At ease — people are good.
At attention wastelands are created.
At ease houses are constructed in the sweat of brows,
and quickly inhabited.

Life on Earth is quite a bargain.
Dreams, for one, don't charge admission.
Illusions are costly only when lost.
The body has its own installment plan.

And as an extra, added feature,
you spin on the planets' carousel for free,
and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard,
with times so dizzying
that nothing here on Earth can even tremble.

Just take a closer look:
the table stands exactly where it stood,
the piece of paper still lies where it was spread,
through the open window comes a breath of air,
the walls reveal no terrifying cracks
through which nowhere might extinguish you.