A note by Wislawa Szymborska

Life is the only way
to get covered in leaves,
catch your breath on the sand,
rise on wings;

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to be a dog,
or stroke its warm fur;

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to tell pain
from everything it’s not;

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to squeeze inside events,
dawdle in views,
to see the least of all possible mistakes.

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An extraordinary chance
to remember a moment,
a conversation held
with the lamp switched off;

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and if only once
to stumble on a beach,
end up drenched in one downpour or another,

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mislay your keys in the grass;
and to follow a spark on the wind with your eyes;

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and to keep on not knowing
something important.

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- Wislawa Szymborska

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