She remembers and forgets

I watched the arctic landscape from above

and thought of nothing, lovely nothing.

expanses where no wolf tracks could be found.

I observed white canopies of clouds, vast




that can promise one thing only: plenitude—

I thought about you and about the emptiness

and that a certain sort of snowy wasteland

the vulnerable earth emerged among the clouds,

bursts from a surfeit of happiness.




As we drew closer to our landing,

a perfect balance between waking and dreams.

comic gardens forgotten by their owners,

pale grass plagued by winter and the wind.

I put my book down and for an instant felt


But when the plane touched concrete, then;

assiduously circled the airport’s labryinth,

I once again knew nothing. The darkness

of daily wanderings resumed, the day’s sweet darkness,

the darkness of the voice that counts and measures,

remembers and forgets.

-Adam Zagajewski-