Those who sailed at dawn <br />but will never return <br />left their trace on a wave-- <br /> <br />a shell fell to the bottom of the sea <br />beautiful as lips turned to stone <br /> <br />those who walked on a sandy road <br />but could not reach the shuttered windows <br />though they already saw the roofs-- <br /> <br />they have found shelter in a bell of air <br /> <br />but those who leave behind only <br />a room grown cold a few books <br />an empty inkwell white paper-- <br /> <br />in truth they have not completely died <br />their whisper travels through thickets of wallpaper <br />their level head still lives in the ceiling <br /> <br />their paradise was made of air <br />of water lime and earth an angel of wind <br />will pulverize the body in its hand <br />they will be <br />carried over the meadows of this world<br /><br />Zbigniew Herbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-ballad-that-we-do-not-perish/
