爱华网献给喜欢辛波斯卡的朋友们，献给相信爱情的人们：
Loveat first sight——by Wislawa Szymborska
They're bothconvinced
that a sudden passion joined them.
Such certainty is beautiful,
but uncertainty is more beautiful still
Since they'd nevermet before, they're sure
that there'd been nothing between them.
But what's the word from the streets, staircases,hallways—
perhaps they've passed each other a million times?
Iwant to ask them
if they don't remember—
a moment face to face
in some revolving door?
Perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?
A curt "wrong number" caught in the receiver?
But i know the answer.
No, they don't remember
They'd be amazed tohear
that chance has been toying with them
now for years.
Notquite ready yet
to become their destiny,
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.
There were signsand signals,
even if they couldn't read them yet.
Perhaps three years ago
or just last tuesday
a certain leaf fluttered
from one shoulder to another?
Something was dropped and then picked up.
Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished
into childhood's thicket?
There weredoorknobs and d oorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream,
grown hazy by morning.
Everybeginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.
一见钟情-辛波斯卡（波兰女作家，1996年诺贝尔文学奖得主）
他们两人都相信
是一股突发的热情让他俩交会。
这样的笃定是美丽的，
但变化无常更是美丽。
既然从未见过面，所以他们确定
彼此并无任何瓜葛。
但是听听自街道、楼梯、走廊传出的话语——
他俩或许擦肩而过一百万次了吧？
我想问他们
是否记不得了——
在旋转门
面对面那一刻？
或者在人群中喃喃说出的「对不起」？
或者在听筒截获的唐突的「打错了」？
然而我早知他们的答案。
是的，他们记不得了。
他们会感到诧异，倘若得知
缘分已玩弄他们
多年。
时机尚未成熟
成为他们命运的准备，
缘分将他们推近，驱离，
憋住笑声
阻挡他们的去路，
然後闪到一边。
有一些迹象和信号存在，
即使他们尚无法解读。
也许在三年前
或者就在上个星期二
有某片叶子飘舞於
肩与肩之间？
有东西掉了又捡了起来？
天晓得，也许是那个
消失於童年灌木丛中的球？
还有事前已被触摸
层层覆盖的
门把和门铃。
检查完毕後并排放置的手提箱。
有一晚，也许同样的梦，
到了早晨变得模糊。
每个开始
毕竟都只是续篇，
而充满情节的书本
总是从一半开始看起。
（有的时候我们得相信爱情、友情，生活就会那么美好；有的时候得信任几个人，心就变得溢满了幸福；所以相信辛波斯卡的一见钟情吧，人这辈子，转念一想就会美好的）
It's MostFortunate
Wislawa Szymborska
It'smost fortunate
that we do not know exactly
what kind of world we live on.
Itwould be necessary
to have existed very long,
decidedly longer
than the world.
Ifonly for comparison
to get acquainted with other worlds.
Onemust soar out of the body
which cannot do anything
but limit
and create difficulties.
Forthe sake of research,
clarity of the picture,
and the final results,
one must rise above time,
in which everything drives and whirls.
Fromthis perspective
you must once and for all get rid of
details and episodes.
Counting the daysof the week
must seem
a meaningless activity,
throwing lettersinto a mail box
is a whim of foolish youth,
theplaque "Don't trample the grass" is
a senseless one.
-translated byWalter Whipple
Tortures (WislawaSzymborska)
Nothing haschanged.
The body is susceptible to pain,
it must eat and breathe air and sleep,
it has thin skin and blood right underneath,
an adequate stock of teeth and nails,
its bones are breakable, its joints are stretchable.
In tortures all this is taken into account.
Nothing haschanged.
The body shudders as it shuddered
before the founding of Rome and after,
in the twentieth century before and after Christ.
Tortures are as they were, it's just the earth that's grownsmaller,
and whatever happens seems right on the other side of thewall.
Nothing haschanged. It's just that there are more people,
besides the old offenses new ones have appeared,
real, imaginary, temporary, and none,
but the howl with which the body responds to them,
was, is and ever will be a howl of innocence
according to the time-honored scale and tonality.
Nothinghas changed. Maybe just the manners, ceremonies, dances.
Yet the movement of the hands in protecting the head is thesame.
The body writhes, jerks and tries to pull away,
its legs give out, it falls, the knees fly up,
it turns blue, swells, salivates and bleeds.
Nothing haschanged. Except for the course of boundaries,
the line of forests, coasts, deserts and glaciers.
Amid these landscapes traipses the soul,
disappears, comes back, draws nearer, moves away,
alien to itself, elusive, at times certain, at others uncertain ofits own existence,
while the body is and is and is
and has no place of its own.
