April 12, 2006
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Perspective — by Wislawa Szymborska
They passed like strangers,
without a word or gesture,
her off to the store,
him heading for the car.
Perhaps startled
or distracted,
or forgetting
that for a short while
they’d been in love forever.
Still, there’s no guarantee
that it was them.
Maybe yes from a distance,
but not close up.
I watched them from the window,
and those who observe from above
are often mistaken.
She vanished beyond the glass door.
He got in behind the wheel
and took off.
As if nothing had happened,
if it had.
And I, sure for just a moment
that I’d seen it,
strive to convince you, O Readers,
with this accidental little poem
that it was sad.
