Try to Praise the Mutilated World

Author: 
Adam Zagajewski

Try to praise the mutilated world.

 

Remember June's long days,

 

and wild strawberries, drops of rosé wine.

 

The nettles that methodically overgrow

 

the abandoned homesteads of exiles.

 

You must praise the mutilated world.

 

You watched the stylish yachts and ships;

 

one of them had a long trip ahead of it,

 

while salty oblivion awaited others.

 

You've seen the refugees going nowhere,

 

you've heard the executioners sing joyfully.

 

You should praise the mutilated world.

 

Remember the moments when we were together

 

in a white room and the curtain fluttered.

 

Return in thought to the concert where music flared.

 

You gathered acorns in the park in autumn

 

and leaves eddied over the earth's scars.

 

Praise the mutilated world

 

and the gray feather a thrush lost,

 

and the gentle light that strays and vanishes

 

and returns.

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