Here by Wislawa SzymborskaHere by Wislawa Szymborska

Here

byWislawa SzymborskaTranslated byClare Cavanagh, Stanislaw Baranczak

Paperback | August 7, 2012

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A new book of poems by Wislawa Szymborska is a rare and exciting event. When Here was published in Poland, reviewers marveled,&nbsp"How is it that she keeps getting better?" These&nbsptwenty-seven poems,&nbspas rendered&nbspby prize-winning translators&nbspClare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak, are among&nbspher greatest&nbspever. Whether writing about her teenage self, microscopic creatures, or the upsides to living on Earth, she remains a virtuoso of form, line, and thought.&nbspFrom the title poem:&nbspI can't speak for elsewhere,but here on Earth we've got a fair supply of everything.Here we manufacture chairs and sorrows,scissors, tenderness, transistors, violins, teacups, dams, and quips&nbsp. . .&nbsp&nbspLike nowhere else, or almost nowhere,you're given your own torso here,equipped with the accessories requiredfor adding your own children to the rest.Not to mention arms, legs, and astonished head.&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA has worked as an editor, translator, and columnist, though she is best known as a poet. In 1996, she was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature.
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Title:HereFormat:PaperbackDimensions:96 pages, 8 × 5 × 0.3 inPublished:August 7, 2012Publisher:Houghton Mifflin HarcourtLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0547592094

ISBN - 13:9780547592091

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Reviews

Read from the Book

HereI can't speak for elsewhere,but here on Earth we've got a fair supply of everything.Here we manufacture chairs and sorrows,scissors, tenderness, transistors, violins,teacups, dams, and quips. There may be more of everything elsewhere,but for reasons left unspecified they lack paintings,picture tubes, pierogies, handkerchiefs for tears. Here we have countless places with vicinities.You may take a liking to some,give them pet names,protect them from harm. There may be comparable places elsewhere,but no one thinks they're beautiful. Like nowhere else, or almost nowhere,you're given your own torso here,equipped with the accessories requiredfor adding your own children to the rest.Not to mention arms, legs, and astounded head. Ignorance works overtime here,something is always being counted, compared, measured,from which roots and conclusions are then drawn. I know, I know what you're thinking.Nothing here can last,since from and to time immemorial the elements hold sway.But see, even the elements grow wearyand sometimes take extended breaksbefore starting up again. And I know what you're thinking next.Wars, wars, wars.But there are pauses in between them too.Attention! — people are evil.At ease — people are good.At attention wastelands are created.At ease houses are constructed in the sweat of brows,and quickly inhabited. Life on Earth is quite a bargain.Dreams, for one, don't charge admission.Illusions are costly only when lost.The body has its own installment plan. And as an extra, added feature,you spin on the planets' carousel for free,and with it you hitch a ride on the intergalactic blizzard,with times so dizzyingthat nothing here on Earth can even tremble. Just take a closer look:the table stands exactly where it stood,the piece of paper still lies where it was spread,through the open window comes a breath of air,the walls reveal no terrifying cracksthrough which nowhere might extinguish you.  

Editorial Reviews

No reader, not even poetry-phobes, should miss the bright revelations of Nobel laureate Szymborska. [? ] Syzmborska is sharply ironic and lithely philosophical, pondering the phenomenal precision of dreams and the elusiveness of meaning. The neat, prancing lyrics collected in this slender, piercing book are delectable and profound." - Booklist"