Love at the first sight

 

Love at the first sight

Wislawa Szymborska

 

They’re both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them.

Such certainty is beautiful,

But the uncertainty is more beautiful still.

 

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure

that they’d been nothing between them.

But what’s the word from streets, staircases, hallways –

Perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

 

I went 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.

 

They’d be amazed to hear

that chance has been toying with them,

now for years.

 

Not quite ready yet

to become their destiny,

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

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 ball that vanished

into childhood’s thicket?

 

There were doorknobs and doorbells

Where one touched and 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.