Under One Small Star by Wislawa Szymborska (transcript under the cut)
My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity in case Iâm mistaken, after all. Please donât be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due. May the dead be patient with the way my memories fade. My apologies to time for tall the world I overlook  each second. My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first. Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home. Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger. I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the  depths. I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today  at five am. Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time. Pardon me, deserts, that I donât rush to you bearing a spoonful of water. And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage, your gaze always fixed on the same point in space, forgive me, even if turns out you were to stuffed. My apologies to the felled tree for the tableâs four legs. My apologies to great questions for small answers. Truth, please donât pay me much attention. Dignity,please be magnanimous. Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your  train. Soul, donât take offense that Iâve only got you now and then. My apologies to everything that I canât be everywhere at once. My apologies to everyone that I canât be each man and each  woman. I know I wonât be justified as long as I live, since I myself stand in my own way. Donât bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words, then labor heavily so that they may seem light.
