Wislawa Szymborska - Drinking Wine (1)
Translated from the Polish by Graźyna Drabik and Sharon Olds
He looked, and gave me beauty,
and I took it as if mine.
Happy, I swallowed a star.
I allowed myself to be
invented in the likeness
of the reflection in his eyes.
I am dancing, dancing
in the flutter of sudden wings.
A table is a table.
Wine is wine in a glass
that is just a glass and stands
standing on a table. While
I am imaginary
to the point of no belief,
imaginary
to the point of blood.
I am telling him
what he want to hear: ants
dying of love under
the constellation of the dandelion.
I swear that a white rose,
sprinkled with wine, sings.
I am laughing, tilting
my head carefully
as if checking an invention
I am dancing, dancing
in astonished skin, in
an embrace that creates me.
Eve from a rib, Venus from sea-foam,
Minerva from Jove's head––
all were more real than I.
When he stops looking at me
I search for my reflection
on a wall. I see only
a nail from which a picture
has been removed
Wislawa Szymborska - Drinking Wine (2)
Translated from the Polish by ?
He looked at me, bestowing beauty,
and I took it for my own.
Happy, I swallowed a star.
I let him invent me
in the image of the reflection
in his eyes. I dance, I dance
in an abundance of sudden wings.
A table is a table, wine is wine
in a wineglass, which is a wineglass
and it stands standing on a table
but I am a phantasm,
a phantasm beyond belief,
a phantasm to the core.
I tell him what he wants to hear––about ants
dying of love
under a dandelion's constellation.
I swear that sprinkled with wine
a white rose will sing.
I laugh, and tilt my head
carefully, as if I were testing
an invention. I dance, I dance
in astounded skin, in the embrace
that creates me.
Eve from a rib, Venus from sea foam,
Minerva from the head of Jove
were much more real.
When he's not looking at me,
I search for my reflection
on the wall. All I see
is a nail on which a painting hun
