Understanding the Past in the Present Through Wisława Szymborska’s Poetry

English A: Literature HL

How Does Wisława Szymborska Utilise a Meditative Tone Throughout her

Poetry to Explore the Relationship Between the Present and the Past

Word Count: 1500

Sometimes profound understanding only requires a moment of pensive reflection to

be realised. The poetic repertoire of Wisława Szymborska is characterised by a

distinctively meditative tone. Being devoid of strictly logical arguments or definitive

conclusions, Szymborska uses suggestive observations to illuminate life's ordinary

yet seemingly extraordinary parts. The poet achieves this by positioning the reader

to view a particular perspective that she playfully crafts through a purposeful

direction of thought. Whilst the overarching theme in each poem remains consistent,

Szymborska’s writing is rather natural, as if each poem was light-hearted

speculation. Reality Demands, Moment and Census are three poems where

Szymborska concentrates her rumination on the parts of the past often

overshadowed by conventional history. By approaching this theme with a meditative

tone, Szymborska's poetry explores the relationship between the past and present

and memorialises the forgotten parts of the past suggesting that all of it is uniquely

important.

In Reality Demands, Szymborska interweaves allusive concrete imagery and

speculative declaratives to produce a meditative tone that memorialises past

tragedies, insisting that despite suffering, humanity continues to grow. The poet

begins the poem with ironically precise motional imagery of "wet paint on park

benches", “letters fly[ing] back and forth”, "a moving van", and "blooming orchards".

Whilst seemingly disconnected, these descriptions share a sense of action and

movement, which are connotations of life. Ruminating on this subject matter,

Szymborska sharply contrasts the lively imagery with their allusive settings of "Bila

Hora", "Pearl Habor", "Chaeronea", and "Verdun", which are all places of tragic

battles throughout history. By a selective focus on specific observations,

Szymborska establishes a juxtaposition between tragedy and normality, which

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continues throughout the poem. The poet concentrates on this juxtaposition, musing

that "there is so much Everything / that Nothing is hidden quite nicely". Finding

evidence in her preceding rumination, Szymborska suggests that the quantity of

historical tragedy may suppose that tragedy is hard to forget.

Furthermore, Szymborska intensifies the juxtaposition by further contemplating on

the hints of past tragedies in daily life. The poet compares the soldiers in the naval

battle of Actium to "couples danc[ing] on the sunlit decks" and describes the grass

on "Maciejowice's fields" as similar to "normal grass". Szymborska's choice of the

verb "besieged" to describe the lines of children wanting Ice-Cream and her

subsequent description of Hiroshima strengthens her speculation that tragedy can be

recognised everywhere. Extending from her line of thought, Szymborska

contemplates that "perhaps all fields are battlefields". By presenting a meditative

tone all the poet's observations have seemingly built up to this proposition, which

effectively leads the audience towards acknowledging its implications.

Nonetheless, Szymborska proceeds to offer a starkly lighthearted evaluation of her

interpretation. Rather than academically reflect on her thoughts, the poet mocks

society's disregard for the loss of life, by mocking the significance of her line of

thought presenting her rumination having “probably” no moral significance. This is

reinforced by Szymborska likening the flow of blood to the flow of rivers and the

dissipation of clouds. Moreover, Szymborska juxtaposes "tragic mountain passes"

with the response of "laughing" at "the wind rip[ping] hats from unwitting heads",

mocking the solemnity of the setting, using the pronoun "we" to suggest that this

behaviour is representative of broader society. As a result, the poet uses the final

stanza of her poem to emphasise a dark truth that tragedies are too often forgotten

and overlooked by society. Ultimately, Szymborska utilises a meditative tone to

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speculate that whilst reality demands that life goes on, it is crucial to memorialise

past tragedies, to learn from past mistakes.

More grandiose in its atmosphere, Szymborska once again engages in a meditative

tone to eternalise an ordinary landscape in Moment, demonstrating that appreciating

a setting's past is crucial to appreciating its present. To begin the poem, Szymborska

uses stunning visual imagery to portray a romanticised idyll. The poet emphasises

the "hill gone green" through a simile to liken the grass to an idealised landscape "as

in a children's illustration". Furthermore, Szymborska’s mood of awe is revealed

through her description of "the misty" night sky "turning blue", and the sun's

increasing radiance "unfold[ing]" on the other surrounding hills. Szymborska

effectively sentimentalises this setting through ruminating on each feature of the

landscape at length, emphasising its intricate beauty. Apart from "silence", the poet's

absence of auditory imagery suggests that Szymborska only reflects on an instant in

this landscape. Nevertheless, using kinesthetic imagery of the sky "turning blue" and

other hills "unfold[ing]", Szymborska brings this timeless landscape to life.

In addition to the romanticised atmosphere, Szymborska ironises that the landscape

is so picturesque that it appears as if no destructive forces of nature have tarnished

it. The repetition of "as if" is ironic because whilst it signifies the landscape's

perceived perfection, this beauty is despite these destructive forces. Szymborska

portrays the history of this landscape by directing her thought to the Cambrian and

Silurian periods, where large tectonic movements produced mass volcanic activity,

which she personifies as "rocks snarling at crags", "plains push[ing] their way" and

seas seething. This personification effectively emphasises that understanding the

past of a landscape is essential to understand its present.

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Differing from the naturalistic imagery, Szymborska proceeds to use an extended

metaphor to liken the features of the landscape to a theatrical performance. The poet

conveys this through using theatrical vocabulary, such as the features being "in

[their] place", the little brook being "cast", and a path holding its "role". Significantly,

similar to how a theatrical performance is temporary, Szymborska's use of the

extended metaphor emphasises that this "polite agreement" is only transient;

however, it is able to be eternalised through her poetry. The poem's final stanza

symbolises an eye for Szymborska's poetry, suggesting that this immortalised

moment is as vivid as her poetry can explain it. Eventually, by inviting "one of those

earthly moments" to "linger", Szymborska demonstrates the importance of both the

past and present in understanding, encouraging greater concentration on

landscapes' history and timeless elements rather than temporary features. Cleverly,

Szymborska presents a tone of speculation to promote a greater understanding of

landscapes' pasts to capture their present, highlighting the importance of

memorialising the past.

Census returns to a cynical mockery, where Szymborska meditates on the dilemma

of society’s disregard for the vast volumes of the past. In the first stanza,

Szymborska emphasises the destruction of history through a caesura, highlighting

the absurdity of the complete demolition of six crucial remnants of the past. The poet

creates a sense of empathy in the reader, mulling over the repeated rhetorical

question, "what can we do". Szymborska further reinforces this with vivid imagery of

the historical cities being ripped apart. The perceived frustration of the poet in her

thought compels the reader to empathise with history, imploring one to value the

past.

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After creating a relationship with the reader, Szymborska explains the dire situation

of society's disregard for the past. Observing "it is getting very crowded there", the

poet uses a metaphor to liken the remembrance of historical figures to a competition

as "fierce tenants elbow[ing] their way through history". Szymborska impacts this by

humanising the dead: "thousands of individual faces ... each with a pair of unique

eyes". Once again, Szymborska intermittently addresses frustration in her

meditation, repeating the same rhetorical question, further building on the helpless

and empathetic atmosphere established beforehand. Notably, whilst the second

rhetorical question adds to the empathy felt by the reader, its irony is evidence of

Szymborska capturing the hushed truth of how society’s sees the past. The poet

juxtaposes their "gold-work" with the de-valuing thought of moving them to an

"under-populated" century, ruminating on the poor treatment of historical figures.

Proceeding this, Szymborska focuses on humanity feigning importance to their own

lives in the mundane imagery of "railway stations", "sports stadiums", "numerous

foreign lands of streets", "floors", and "walls". Hence, the poet humiliates history by

describing even the mundane parts of society as of higher value. However,

Szymborska's much more significant effect is to present the hushed dilemma of

society’s obsession with its present, and the effects of this on the past. Through

exploring this relationship in a meditative tone, the poet is able to simultaneously

appeal to the reader's emotions through jarring juxtapositions and a pervading sense

of irony yet retains a blatant sense of realism in identifying the non-historically

focused life of Homer, who Szymborska symbolises as the ignorance of the average

person towards the past.

Ultimately, the relationship between the past and the present is a central theme

throughout Szymborska's body of work which the poet presents through a uniquely

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meditative tone. By ruminating on this relationship, Szymborska captures unspoken

truths and highlights society's neglect of the past, and throughout her poetry, the

poet appeals to her reader's emotions with romanticised ruminations, and their

rationality with witty mockery. In a time so focused on the future of our species,

Szymborska's authentically whimsical voice continues to be crucial in understanding

society’s relationship with the past. Encouraging each historical moment – uniquely

special – to be eternalised and "invited to linger".

WORK CITED

Szymborska, W. (2015). Map. (C. Cavanagh, & S. Baranczak, Trans.) Houghton

Mifflin Harcourt.

APPENDICES
Appendix A – Reality Demands
Reality demands
That we also mention this:
Life goes on.
It continues at Cannae and Borodino,
At Kosovo Polje and Guernica.

There's a gas station

on a little square in Jericho,
and wet paint
on park benches in Bila Hora.
Letters fly back and forth
between Pearl Harbor and Hastings,
a moving van passes
beneath the eye of the lion at Chaeronea,
and the blooming orchards near Verdun

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cannot escape
the approaching atmospheric front.

There is so much Everything

that Nothing is hidden quite nicely.
Music pours
from the yachts moored at Actium
and couples dance on the sunlit decks.

So much is always going on,

that it must be going on all over.
Where not a stone still stands,
you see the Ice Cream Man
besieged by children.
Where Hiroshima had been
Hiroshima is again,
producing many products
for everyday use.
This terrifying world is not devoid of charms,
of the mornings
that make waking up worthwhile.

The grass is green

on Maciejowice's fields,
and it is studded with dew,
as is normal grass.

Perhaps all fields are battlefields,

those we remember
and those that are forgotten:
the birch forests and the cedar forests,
the snow and the sand, the iridescent swamps

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and the canyons of black defeat,
where now, when the need strikes, you don't cower
under a bush but squat behind it.

What moral flows from this? Probably none.

Only that blood flows, drying quickly,
and, as always, a few rivers, a few clouds.

On tragic mountain passes

the wind rips hats from unwitting heads
and we can't help
laughing at that.

Appendix B – Moment
I walk on the slope of a hill gone green.
Grass, little flowers in the grass,
as in a children’s illustration.
The misty sky’s already turning blue.
A view of other hills unfolds in silence.

As if there’d never been any Cambrians, Silurians,

rocks snarling at crags,
upturned abysses,
no nights in flames
and days in clouds of darkness.

As if plains hadn’t pushed their way here

in malignant fevers,
icy shivers.

As if seas had seethed only elsewhere,

shredding the shores of the horizons.

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It’s nine-thirty local time.
Everything’s in its place and in polite agreement.
In the valley a little brook cast as a little brook.
A path in the role of a path from always to ever.
Woods disguised as woods alive without end,
and above them birds in flight play birds in flight.

This moment reigns as far as the eye can reach.

One of those earthly moments
invited to linger.

Appendix C – Census
On the hill where Troy once stood,
seven cities have been excavated.
Seven cities. Six too many
for a single epic poem.
What can we do about them, what can we do?
The hexameters are bursting asunder,
unnarrated brick protrudes from the cracks,
in the stillness of a silent film ruined walls,
charred beams, broken links,
amphoras drained to the last bottom,
fertility amulets, orchard seeds,
and skulls tangible as tomorrow's moon.

There's an expansion of antiquity these days,

it's getting very crowded there,
fierce tenants elbow their way through history,
legions of sword-fodder,
twin brothers of Hector the eagle, fully his equal in valor,
thousands and thousands of individual faces,

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each the first and the last in time,
and each with a pair of unique eyes.
It used to be so easy to ignore something
that lachrymose, that spacious.

What can we do about them, what can we give them?

Some century hitherto under-populated?
Some small recognition for their gold-work?
Surely it's too late for the last judgment.
We, three billion judges,
have our own problems,
our own inarticulate swarms,
railway stations, sport stadiums, processions,
numerous foreign lands of streets, floors, walls.
We pass one another for eternity in dime stores
while buying a new pitcher.
Homer holds down a job in the bureau of statistics.
No one knows what he does at home.

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