beneath the bark

We don't know who we are.

We are lost in the forest, and the black stars

move lazily above us as if they were 

only our dream.

But still, the second angel mumbled shyly,
there's always a little joy, and even beauty
lies close at hand, beneath the bark
of every hour, in the quiet heart of concentration,
and another person hides in each of us -
universal, strong, invincible.

 ...

Memory lives in the ocean, in galloping blood,

in black, burnt stones, in poems,

and in every quiet conversation.

The world is the same as it always was,

full of shadows and anticipation.

- Adam Zagajewski
from Three Angels
translated by Clare Cavanagh