i12bent:

Born on the 2nd of July, 1923 - Wisława Szymborska, Polish poet and Nobel Laureate (1996) “for poetry that with ironic precision allows the historical and  biological context to come to light in fragments of human reality…”
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Wisława Szymborska: The End and the Beginning

After every war someone has to clean up. Things won’t straighten themselves up, after all. Someone has to push the rubble to the sides of the road, so the corpse-laden wagons can pass. Someone has to get mired in scum and ashes, sofa springs, splintered glass, and bloody rags. Someone must drag in a girder to prop up a wall, Someone must glaze a window, rehang a door. Photogenic it’s not, and takes years. All the cameras have left for another war. Again we’ll need bridges and new railway stations. Sleeves will go ragged from rolling them up. Someone, broom in hand, still recalls how it was. Someone listens and nods with unsevered head. Yet others milling about already find it dull. From behind the bush sometimes someone still unearths rust-eaten arguments and carries them to the garbage pile. Those who knew what was going on here must give way to those who know little. And less than little. And finally as little as nothing. In the grass which has overgrown reasons and causes, someone must be stretched out blade of grass in his mouth gazing at the clouds.

(Photo: Węglowski, 1954)

i12bent:

Born on the 2nd of July, 1923 - Wisława Szymborska, Polish poet and Nobel Laureate (1996) “for poetry that with ironic precision allows the historical and biological context to come to light in fragments of human reality…”

****

Wisława Szymborska: The End and the Beginning

After every war
someone has to clean up.
Things won’t
straighten themselves up, after all.

Someone has to push the rubble
to the sides of the road,
so the corpse-laden wagons
can pass.

Someone has to get mired
in scum and ashes,
sofa springs,
splintered glass,
and bloody rags.

Someone must drag in a girder
to prop up a wall,
Someone must glaze a window,
rehang a door.

Photogenic it’s not,
and takes years.
All the cameras have left
for another war.

Again we’ll need bridges
and new railway stations.
Sleeves will go ragged
from rolling them up.

Someone, broom in hand,
still recalls how it was.
Someone listens
and nods with unsevered head.
Yet others milling about
already find it dull.

From behind the bush
sometimes someone still unearths
rust-eaten arguments
and carries them to the garbage pile.

Those who knew
what was going on here
must give way to
those who know little.
And less than little.
And finally as little as nothing.

In the grass which has overgrown
reasons and causes,
someone must be stretched out
blade of grass in his mouth
gazing at the clouds.

(Photo: Węglowski, 1954)

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    Wisława Szymborska (Photo: Węglowski, 1954)
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