Balance
Adam Zagajewski, 1945
I watched the arctic landscape from above
and thought of nothing, lovely nothing.
I observed white canopies of clouds, vast
expanses where no wolf tracks could be found.
I thought about you and about the emptiness
that can promise one thing only: plenitude—
and that a certain sort of snowy wasteland
bursts from a surfeit of happiness.
As we drew closer to our landing,
the vulnerable earth emerged among the clouds,
comic gardens forgotten by their owners,
pale grass plagued by winter and the wind.
I put my book down and for an instant felt
a perfect balance between waking and dreams.
But when the plane touched concrete, then
assiduously circled the airport’s labryinth,
I once again knew nothing. The darkness
I watched the arctic landscape from above and thought of nothing, lovely nothing. I observed white canopies of clouds, vast expanses where no wolf tracks could be found. I thought about you and about the emptiness that can promise one thing only: plenitude— and that a certain sort of snowy wasteland bursts from a surfeit of happiness. As we drew closer to our landing, the vulnerable earth emerged among the clouds, comic gardens forgotten by their owners, pale grass plagued by winter and the wind. I put my book down and for an instant felt a perfect balance between waking and dreams. But when the plane touched concrete, then assiduously circled the airport’s labryinth, I once again knew nothing. The darkness
plenitude- an abundance
ReplyDeletesurfeit- excessive amount of something
This was such an amazing poem for me. The place in between silence and the fluctuating mind portrayed as both reality and the dream state and imaginative state of reading and "traveling".
So much of the balance that we need in this world today is silence....is less. Too much of our burden is overstimulation. We just need to sit down and read the poem. Take 5 simple minutes to be engulfed before rushing off to the other 55 minutes of the hour where what do we really "accomplish"? What is this life meant to be lived for? For getting back to the balance of nature...of life....nature never rushes- it has seasons and takes it time every single day...
Something about being up above the clouds gave another perspective. As if landing back on Earth or being in society returned the narrator to darkness. Like Plato's Prisoner
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