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Reviews
View with a Grain of Sand: Selected Poems by Stanisław Barańczak, Wisława Szymborska, Clare Cavanagh
jsimpson's review against another edition
4.0
had one of the loveliest nights of my life, reading out loud from this book.
bettyvd's review against another edition
4.0
Eerste dichtbundel gelezen naar aanleiding schrijfcursus. Deze kon ik echt appreciëren.
notesquotesscarletmotes's review against another edition
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
The Pi poem was a definite favorite. Sometimes beautiful and sometimes heartbreaking.
homeriser's review against another edition
4.0
i’m a big mood reader and i think i failed to pick this up at the right times, but on such occasions that i did, it was a most wonderful journey, especially the poems which scream of the heavy weight of little things. i’ll be coming back to this one a lot, i fear.
goldhattedlover's review against another edition
4.0
What amazes me about Szymborska's poetry is the profound levity she finds in the ordinary. The poems read humorously, but their meaning leaves you unnerved. I enjoyed them thoroughly.
butchriarchy's review against another edition
4.0
Szymborska offers insight on ubiquitous subjects and themes to reflect on. She also has some fun, pleasing sounding poems which play on language. There were a few which missed their mark for me but it was mostly very enjoyable and worthy of the hype.
streamthief's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
LOVED... Got it because dad said it was one of his favorites and it was fantastic. Lots of ones about nature and war and it was just so nice
lauren_endnotes's review against another edition
5.0
WATER
A drop of water fell on my hand,
drawn from the Ganges and the Nile,
from hoarfrost ascended to heaven off a seal's whiskers,
from jugs broken in the cities of Ys and Tyre.
On my index finger
the Caspian Sea isn't landlocked,
and the Pacific is the Rudawa's meek tributary,
that same stream that floated as a little cloud over Paris
in the year seven hundred and sixty-four
on the seventh of May at three a.m.
There are not enough mouths to utter
all your fleeting names, O water.
I would have to name you in every tongue
pronouncing all the vowels at once
while also keeping silent–for the sake of the lake that still goes unnamed
and doesn’t exist on this earth, just as the star
reflected in it is not in the sky.
Someone was drowning, someone dying was
calling out for you. Long ago and, yesterday.
You have saved houses from fire, you have carried off houses and trees, forests and towns alike.
You’ve been in christening fonts and courtesan’s baths.
In coffin and kisses.
Gnawing stone, feeding rainbows,
In the sweat and the dew of the pyramids and lilacs.
How light the raindrop's contents are.
How gently the world touches me.
Whenever wherever whatever has happened
Is written down on the waters of Babel.
A drop of water fell on my hand,
drawn from the Ganges and the Nile,
from hoarfrost ascended to heaven off a seal's whiskers,
from jugs broken in the cities of Ys and Tyre.
On my index finger
the Caspian Sea isn't landlocked,
and the Pacific is the Rudawa's meek tributary,
that same stream that floated as a little cloud over Paris
in the year seven hundred and sixty-four
on the seventh of May at three a.m.
There are not enough mouths to utter
all your fleeting names, O water.
I would have to name you in every tongue
pronouncing all the vowels at once
while also keeping silent–for the sake of the lake that still goes unnamed
and doesn’t exist on this earth, just as the star
reflected in it is not in the sky.
Someone was drowning, someone dying was
calling out for you. Long ago and, yesterday.
You have saved houses from fire, you have carried off houses and trees, forests and towns alike.
You’ve been in christening fonts and courtesan’s baths.
In coffin and kisses.
Gnawing stone, feeding rainbows,
In the sweat and the dew of the pyramids and lilacs.
How light the raindrop's contents are.
How gently the world touches me.
Whenever wherever whatever has happened
Is written down on the waters of Babel.