Love at First Sight - Wislawa Szymborska

The poem (with comments):

They're both convinced
Meaning perhaps what they're convinced about is wrong
That a sudden passion joined them.
Self-explanatory - saw her/him needed her/him loved her/him
Such certainty is beautiful
But uncertainty is more beautiful still.
This uncertainty is what the whole poem is about, as we shall see:

Since they'd never met before, they're sure
that there'd been nothing between them.
The two lovers are under the impression that in their whole loves, they have never once met before, and so could not have had any kind of association or relationship with each other.
But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways -
perhaps they've passed each other by a million times?
Now Wislawa points out that they could have met a million times and not known it - on the streets, staircases, hallways.

I want 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.
Of all their interactions with total strangers - at revolving doors, in crowds, over the phone, Wislawa wants to ask the two if they don't remember having even one such with each other. She doesn't ask, though, because she already knows the answer. They don't. However, by not asking, she maintains this delightful secrecy of the Mona Lisa smile.

They'd be amazed to hear
that Chance has been toying with them
now for years.
She tells us, not them, that Chance has been playing with their lives now for years.
Not quite ready yet
to become their Destiny,
Chance was not ready yet to take on the role of Destiny, so
it pushed them close, drove them apart,
it made them met, but not, tangibly close but not yet, no - so it separated them
it barred their path,
stifling a laugh,
and then leaped aside.

There were signs and 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 the ball that vanished
into childhood's thicket's?

There were doorknobs and doorbells
where one touch had covered another
beforehand.
Suitcases checked and standing side by side.
One night, perhaps, the same dream
grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning
is only a sequel, after all,
and the book of events
is always open halfway through.
The world is actually a small place. In this beautiful chaotic coincidental serendipitous mess, there are no true beginnings - only continuations, and there is the promise of more to come.


Wislawa Szymborska dabbled in 'Precisionism,' a mid-20th century art form focusing on industrialization and modernization. She was known for her beautiful use of irony and ironic precision. Her poetry often explored the deeper meanings behind common-place experiences.

In the poem, Love at First Sight, translated from Polish, she speaks of the uncertainty and unknown serendipity of falling in love with a person you've just met, the uncertainty being that you may or may not have actually met them before - either way, you just don't

by
affham | affhamrazak111@gmail.com