a notebook


—“Your life is a number,” says time, being a Pythagorean. —“My life frees itself from you at every moment.” —“It realizes me, proves, fulfills, affirms.” —“I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played.” —“Time and music. I’m both at once. I don’t know myself how it happens. Music is written into time, but gives it a value beyond numbers.” • Little Jakub, a technological child, sees the world as a great machine, a computer on which he presses buttons. He asks: “Who turned off the storm?” • “Night of the Senses”: St. John of the Cross. No poetry, since poetry needs things, the ladder of things along which the angels of poems ascend and descend. • Freud thought that each person possessed a fixed stock of affection. So if you love someone else, you love yourself less. Freud’s wrong. Love doesn’t run out. It’s the miracle of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath. The more we love another person, the more we love ourselves, and everything else, and the world.

more from Anna Kamienska at Poetry here.