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Friday, February 12, 2010

Love at first sight...

Love at First Sight
(by Wislawa Szymborska)


Both are convinced


that a sudden surge of emotion bound them together.


Beautiful is such a certainty,


but uncertainty is more beautiful.




Because they didn't know each other earlier, they suppose that


nothing was happening between them.


What of the streets, stairways and corridors


where they could have passed each other long ago?




I'd like to ask them


whether they remember-- perhaps in a revolving door


ever being face to face?


an "excuse me" in a crowd


or a voice "wrong number" in the receiver.


But I know their answer:


no, they don't remember.




They'd be greatly astonished


to learn that for a long time


chance had been playing with them.




Not yet wholly ready


to transform into fate for them


it approached them, then backed off,


stood in their way


and, suppressing a giggle,


jumped to the side. There were signs, signals:


but what of it if they were illegible.


Perhaps three years ago,


or last Tuesday


did a certain leaflet fly


from shoulder to shoulder?


There was something lost and picked up.


Who knows but what it was a ball


in the bushes of childhood.




There were doorknobs and bells


on which earlier


touch piled on touch.


Bags beside each other in the luggage room.


Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,


suddenly erased after waking.




Every beginning


is but a continuation,


and the book of events


is never more than half open.



-translated by Walter Whipple

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