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My cry could only waken him. And what
a poor gift: I, confined to my own form,
when I used to be a birch, a lizard
shedding times and satin skins
in many shimmering hues.

— Wisława Szymborska Poems New and Collected (1998)

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More quotes by Wisława Szymborska

Inspiration is not the exclusive privilege of poets or artists.

The Poet and the World (1996)

For the sake of research,
the big picture
and definitive conclusions,
one would have to transcend time,
in which everything scurries and whirls.

Poems New and Collected (1998)

They were neither good nor evil now — every living thing
was simply creeping or hopping along in the mass panic.

Poems New and Collected (1998)

Toy balloon
once kidnapped by the wind —
come home, and I will say:
There are no children here.

Poems New and Collected (1998)

Everything the dead predicted has turned out completely different.
Or a little bit different — which is to say, completely different.

Poems New and Collected (1998)

All Wisława Szymborska quotes →

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Wisława Szymborska (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.