I would like to describe

.

I would like to describe the simplest emotion

joy or sadness

but not as others do

reaching for shafts of rain or sun

I would like to describe a light

which is being born in me

but I know it does not resemble

any star

for it is not so bright

not so pure

and it is uncertain

I would like to describe courage

without dragging behind me a dusty lion

and also anxiety

without shaking a glass full of water

to put it another way 

I would give all metaphors

in return for one word

drawn out of my breast like a rib

for one word

contained within the boundaries

of my skin

but apparently this is not possible

and just to say - I love

I run around like mad 

picking up handfuls of birds

and my tenderness

which after all is not made of water

asks the water for a face

and anger

different from fire

borrows from it

a loquacious tongue

so is blurred

so is blurred

in me what white-haired gentlemen 

separated once and for all

and said

this is the subject

and this is the object

we fall asleep with one had 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

~ Zbigniew Herbert 

translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott