BY ADAM ZAKAJEWSKI
Translated by Clare Cavanagh
For example, with someone no longer is,
who exist only in yellowed letters.
Or long walks beside a stream,
whose depths hold hidden
porcelain cups - and the talks about philosophy
with a timid student or a postman.
A passerby with proud eyes
whom you'll never know.
Friendship with this world, ever more perfect
(If not for a salty of blood).
The old man sipping coffee
in St. Lazare, who reminds you of someone.
Faces flashing by
in local trains -
the happy faces of traveler headed perhaps
for a splendid ball, or a beheading.
And friendship with yourself-
since after all you don't know who you are.