Monday, May 20
link


Impossible Friendships
For example, with someone who no longer is,
who exists only in yellowed letters.

Or long walks beside a stream,
whose depths hold hidden

porcelain cups - and the talks about philosophy
with a timid student or the postman.

A passerby with proud eyes
whom you'll never know.

Friendship with this world, ever more perfect
(if not for the salty smell of blood).

The old man sipping coffee
in St.-Lazare, who reminds you of someone.

Faces flashing by
in local trains -

the happy faces of travelers headed perhaps
for a splendid ball, or a beheading.

And friendship with yourself
- since after all you don't know who you are.
 - Adam Zagajewski
translated by Clare Cavanagh

Eternal Enemies









  • ". . . as I have said often enough, I write for myself in multiplicate,
    a not unfamiliar phenomenon on the horizon of shimmering deserts."
    - Vladimir Nabokov