††††††††††† Some fishermen pulled a bottle from the deep. It held a piece

of paper, with these words: ďSomebody save me! Iím here. The

ocean cast me on this desert island. I am standing on the shore

waiting for help. Hurry! Iím here!Ē

††††††††††† ďThereís no date. I bet itís already too late anyway. It could

have been floating for years,Ē the first fisherman said.

††††††††††† ďAnd he doesnít say where. Itís not even clear which ocean,Ē

the second fisherman said.

††††††††††† ďItís not too late, or too far. The island Here is everywhere,Ē

the third fisherman said.

††††††††††† They all felt awkward. No one spoke. Thatís how it goes with

universal truths.


Wisława Szymborska††

(from Salt 1962)†††††††††††