“It’s just not easy to explain to someone else what you don’t understand yourself.” ~ Wislawa Szymymborska

“Water Lily Pads,” by Jaroslav Krupka

 

“All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.” ~ Wislawa Szymborska

I found a new site:  Mosaic Moods. Skyewriter told me about it. Lovely writing and beautiful mosaics. Check it out.

Here is a poem that she included in her latest post by Nobel laureate Wislawa Szymborska (1996, Literature). I love it.

In Praise of Dreams

In my dreams
I paint like Vermeer van Delft.

I speak fluent Greek
and not just with the living.

I drive a car
that does what I want it to.

I am gifted
and write mighty epics.

I hear voices
as clearly as any venerable saint.

My brilliance as a pianist
would stun you.

I fly the way we ought to,
i.e., on my own.

Falling from the roof,
I tumble gently to the grass.

I’ve got no problem
breathing under water.

I can’t complain:
I’ve been able to locate Atlantis.

It’s gratifying that I can always
wake up before dying.

As soon as war breaks out,
I roll over on my other side.

I’m a child of my age,
but I don’t have to be.

A few years ago
I saw two suns.

And the night before last a penguin,
clear as day.

~ Wislawa Szymborska

More later. Peace.

Music by Nana Mouskouri, “En Partant”

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