Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember Juneâs long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of rosĂŠ wine.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutiliated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
Youâve seen the refugees going nowhere,
youâve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earthâs scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
– Adam Zagajewski, How Lovely the Ruins, 2017
âImage: Pinterest
The Sanguine Woods 