Quotes from Zbigniew Herbert

A bird is a bird Slavery means slavery A knife is a knife Death remains death

And if the City falls but a single man escapes. He will carry the City within himself on the roads of exile. He will be the City.

Ta ksi??­ka Å'a­god­nie mnie na­po­mi­na nie po­zwa­la bym zbyt szyb­ko biegÅ' w takt to­czÄ…­cej siÄ™ fra­zy ka?e wró­ci? do po­czÄ…t­ku wci?? za­czy­na? od nowa

if we lose the ruins nothing will be left

I do not turn to history to draw from it an easy lesson of hope, but to confront my experience with that of others, to acquire something I might call universal compassion, and also a sense of responsibility, responsibility for the state of my conscience.

a przecie? kupowa?em w salonach sztuki pudry mikstury ma?cie szminki na szlachetno?? przyk?ada?em do oczu marmur ziele? Veronese'a Mozartem naciera?em uszy doskonali?em nozdrza woni? starych ksi??ek

So is blurred so is blurred in me what white-haired gentleman separated once and for all and said this is the subject this is the object we fall asleep with one hand under our head and with the other in a mound of planets our feet abandon us and taste the earth with their tiny roots which next morning we tear out painfully

he wanted to understand to the very end —Pascal's night —the nature of a diamond —the melancholy of the prophets —Achille's wrath —the madness of those who kill —the dreams of Mary Stuart —Neanderthal fear —the despair of the last Aztecs —Nietzsche's long death throes —the joy of the painter of Lascaux —the rise and fall of an oak —the rise and fall of Rome

cemeteries grow larger the number of defenders shrinks but the defense continues and will last to the end and even if the City falls and one of us survives he will carry the City inside him on the roads of exile he will be the City we look at the face of hunger the face of fire the face of death and the worst of them all—the face of treason and only our dreams have not been humiliated

The carpet is too soft. Also the palm tree in the lobby is unbelievable. For a long time the Maitre looks at our faces, shuffling passports in his hands. Such dark-ringed eyes, such dark-ringed eyes. I knew a merchant from Smyrna, who also had a false front tooth. Nowadays one has to be terribly careful: informers and scorpions are everywhere. In the elevator we stand facing the mirror, but already at the first jerk we see silvery mildew in the place of our faces.

nuestros ojos reflejan una pregunta apacible como un espejo que ya no enmohece el aliento cada día renuevo mi mirar cada día va creciendo mi tacto con el cosquilleo de la cercanía de tantas cosas.

I thank You Lord for creating the world beautiful and various and if this is Your seduction I am seduced for good and past all forgiveness