by Wislawa Szymborska

They both thought

that a sudden feeling had united them

This certainty is beautiful,

Even more beautiful than uncertainty.

They thought they didn't know each other,

nothing had ever happened between them,

These streets, these stairs, this corridors,

Where they could have met so long ago?

I would like to ask them,

if they can remember -

perhaps in a revolving door

face to face one day?

A "sorry" in the crowd?

"Wrong number" on the 'phone?

- but I know the answer.

No, they don't remember.

How surprised they would be

For such a long time already

Fate has been playing with them.

Not quite yet ready

to change into destiny,

which brings them nearer and yet further,

cutting their path

and stifling a laugh,

escaping ever further;

There were sings, indications,

undecipherable, what does in matter.

Three years ago, perhaps

or even last Tuesday,

this leaf flying

from one shoulder to another?

Something lost and gathered.

Who knows, perhaps a ball already

in the bushes, in childhood?

There were handles, door bells,

where, on the trace of a hand,

another hand was placed;

suitcases next to one another in the

left luggage.

And maybe one night the same dream

forgotten on walking;

But every beginning

is only a continuation

and the book of fate is

always open in the middle.

是瞬間迸發的熱情使他們相遇

這樣的確定是美麗的

但變幻無常更為美麗

他們素未謀面，所以他們確定彼此并無瓜葛。

但是自街道、樓梯、大堂傳來的話語... ...

他們也許擦肩而過一百萬次了吧。

我想問他們

是否記得... ...

在旋轉門

面對面那一剎

或是在人群中喃喃道出的“對不起”，

或是在電話的另一端道出的“打錯了”。

但是我早知道答案。

是的，他們并不記得。

他們會很驚訝，原來緣分已經戲弄他們多年。

時機尚未成熟變成他們的命運，

緣分將他們拉近，驅離。

阻擋著他們的去路

忍著笑聲

然后閃到一旁... ...

有一些跡象和信號存在，

即使他們尚無法解讀。

也許在三年前

或者就在上個星期二，

有某片葉子飄舞于

肩與肩之間?

有東西掉了又撿了起來?

天曉得，也許是那個

消失于童年灌木叢中的球?

還有事前已被觸摸

層層覆蓋的

門把和門鈴。

檢查完畢后并排放置的手提箱。

有一晚，也許同樣的夢，

到了早晨變得模糊。

每個開始

畢竟都只是續篇，

而充滿情節的書本

總是從一半開始看起。