Coming home

Follow my blog with Bloglovin Hello! I have a pleasure to make it the first post ever published here. It should be special enough to deserve being called “a beginning”. Most likely it won’t be special, though, but that’s absolutely fine because starts aren’t always fantastic. We worship them like gods, but we forget  the middle and the end also make a journey. Maybe even more, as it requires a lot of determination to carry on.
Anyway, what I decided to talk about today is poetry. Not only does it seem to fade away in our culture, but to make matters worse… it vanishes in us, people. What was the last time you read a poem? If recently –  thumbs up for you, if not – don’t feel too ashamed, because most of us have been there. Not everyone enjoys poetry and it’s perfectly fine, but some people just haven’t tasted its lyrical texture, so they cannot judge it. Below I’ll share with you one of my favorite poems. Let me hope you will give it a chance, even the slightest one. Poets may be dead, but if they’re watching from above, maybe they will gift you with the sunniest and loveliest day you’ve ever had if you read one of their works.

THE TOWER OF BABEL – Wisława Szymborska
“What time is it?” “Oh yes, I’m so happy;
all I need is a little bell round my neck
to jingle over you while you’re asleep.”
“Didn’t you hear the storm? The north wind shook
the walls; the tower gate, like a lion’s maw,
yawned on its creaking hinges.” “How could you
forget? I had on that plain gray dress
that fastens on the shoulder.” “At that moment,
myriad explosions shook the sky.” “How could I
come in? You weren’t alone, after all.” “I glimpsed
colors older than sight itself”Too bad
you can’t promise me.” “You’re right, it must have been
a dream.” “Why all these lies; why do you call me
by her name; do you still love her?” “Of course,
I want you to stay with me.” “I can’t
complain. I should have guessed myself.”
“Do you still think about him?” “But I’m not crying.”
“That’s all there is?” “No one but you.”
“At least, you’re honest.” “Don’t worry,
I’m leaving town.” “Don’t worry,
I’m going.” “You have such beautiful hands.”
“That’s ancient history; the blade went through,
but missed the bone.” “Never mind, darling,
never mind.” “I don’t know
what time it is, and I don’t care.”
Translated by Stanisław Barańczak and Clare Cavanagh

The final thought: words are what makes us human, but it also can make us monsters. Let’s use it wisely. After all, even mermaids want to be human…

Have a lovely day,




4 thoughts on “Coming home

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