The End and
After every war
someone must do the cleaning-up.
Because the minimum of order
cannot be done without someone.
Someone must clear back the rubble
from the sides of roadways
so that the cars full of corpses
are able to pass.
Someone must go down into
the wet earth and the ash
into the sofa springs
into the shattered glass
and the bloodstained linen.
Someone must drag over the beam
that is going to prop up the wall,
set the pane in the window
and the door on its hinges.
It’s not photogenic
and it takes years.
All the cameras have already left
for another war.
It needs – new bridges
and railway stations.
Sleeves will soon be in tatters
From rolling them up.
Someone, a broom in hand,
still remembers how it was.
Nods his head that was not ripped off.
Somewhere in the vicinity
people are beginning to protest already
that this work is going to bore.
Someone from time to time
unearths from under a bush
arguments eaten away by rust
and sets them on a pile of debris.
Those who knew
what happened here
Have to leave room for those
who know very little.
Then for those who know even less.
Finally for those who know nothing.
In the grass that grew over
the causes and the consequences
someone must daydream
a wheat stem between their teeth
watching the clouds pass.
About the Poet…………
Maria Wisława Anna Szymborska (1923 – 2012) was a Polish poet, essayist, translator and recipient of the 1996 Nobel Prize in Literature. Born in Prowent, which has since become part of Kórnik, she later resided in Kraków until the end of her life. Wikipedia
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