posting my poem for the day bright and early so i don't forget to
"You know, I think more and more often"
by Tadeusz Borowski
You know, I think more and more often
that I should go back.
Maybe I'll meet you. And happiness?
Happiness is being sad together.
So I look through the moonlit window
and listen.
Nothing. A breeze stirs somewhere.
Alone among the leaves - the moon.
Like a golden wheel it rolls
above the windblown leaves.
Such moons, only paler,
shone over the Wisla.
Even the Big Dipper on its course
stops in a tree at midnight,
just like at home. But why here?
Truly, I don't know.
What's here? Longing and sleepless nights,
unknown streets and somebody's verse.
I live here as a nobody:
a Displaced Person.
I think of you. I know I must leave.
Perhaps we can return to our past,
but I know neither what youth will be like
nor where you are.
But I'm yours or no one's
forever. Listen,
listen, read this poem
if somewhere you are alive.
by Tadeusz Borowski
You know, I think more and more often
that I should go back.
Maybe I'll meet you. And happiness?
Happiness is being sad together.
So I look through the moonlit window
and listen.
Nothing. A breeze stirs somewhere.
Alone among the leaves - the moon.
Like a golden wheel it rolls
above the windblown leaves.
Such moons, only paler,
shone over the Wisla.
Even the Big Dipper on its course
stops in a tree at midnight,
just like at home. But why here?
Truly, I don't know.
What's here? Longing and sleepless nights,
unknown streets and somebody's verse.
I live here as a nobody:
a Displaced Person.
I think of you. I know I must leave.
Perhaps we can return to our past,
but I know neither what youth will be like
nor where you are.
But I'm yours or no one's
forever. Listen,
listen, read this poem
if somewhere you are alive.