ALLEGRO MA NON TROPPO By Wislawa Szymborska Life, you're beautiful (I say) you just couldn't get more fecund, more befrogged or nightingaley, more anthillful or sproutspouting. I'm trying to court life' s favour, to get into its good graces, to anticipate its whims. I'm always the first to bow, always there where it can see me with my humble, reverent face, soaring on the wings of rapture, falling under waves of wonder. Oh how grassy is this hopper, how this berry ripely rasps. I would never have conceived it if I weren't conceived myself! Life (I say) I've no idea what I could compare you to. No one else can make a pine cone and then make the pine cone's clone. I praise your inventiveness, bounty, sweep, exactitude, Sense of order - gifts that border on witchcraft and wizardry. I just don't want to upset you, tease or anger, vex or rile. For millennia, I've been trying to appease you with my smile I tug
Left wing commentary from the heart and the head