990. An Idea - Wislawa Szymborska

Translated from the Polish by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak

An idea came to me

for a rhyme? a poem?

Well, fine — I say — stay awhile, we’ll talk.

Tell me a little more about yourself.

So it whispered a few words in my ear.

Ah, so that’s the story — I say — intriguing.

These matters have long weighed upon my heart.

But a poem about them? I don’t think so.

So it whispered a few words in my ear.

It may seem that way — I reply —

but you overestimate my gifts and powers.

I wouldn’t even know where to start.

So it whispered a few words in my ear.

You’re wrong — I say — a short, pithy poem

is much harder than a long one.

Don’t pester me, don’t nag, it won’t turn out.

So it whispered a few words in by ear.

All right then, I’ll try, since you insist.

But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

I write, tear it up, and toss it out.

So it whispered a few words in by ear.

You’re right — I say — there are always other poets.

Some of them can do better.

I’ll give you names and addresses.

So it whispered a few words in by ear.

Of course I’ll envy them.

We envy even the weak poems.

But this one should . . . it ought to have . . .

So it whispered a few words in my ear.

Exactly, to have the qualities you’ve listed.

So let’s change the subject.

How about a cup of coffee?

  It just sighed.

And started vanishing.

And vanished.