A Moment in Troy” by Wisława Zsymborska

A MOMENT IN TROY Wislawa Szymborska’s -

Little girls— skinny, resigned to freckles that won’t go away,

not turning any heads as they walk across the eyelids of the world,

looking just like Mom or Dad, and sincerely horrified by it—

in the middle of dinner, in the middle of a book, while studying the mirror, may suddenly be taken off to Troy.

In the grand boudoir of a wink they all turn into beautiful Helens.

They ascend the royal staircase in the rustling of silk and admiration. They feel light. They all know that beauty equals rest, that lips mold the speech’s meaning, and gestures sculpt themselves in inspired nonchalance.

Their small faces worth dismissing envoys for extend proudly on necks that merit countless sieges.

Those tall, dark movie stars, their girlfriends’ older brothers, the teacher from art class, alas, they must all be slain.

Little girls observe disaster from a tower of smiles.

Little girls wring their hands in intoxicating mock despair.

Little girls against a backdrop of destruction, with flaming towns for tiaras, in earrings of pandemic lamentation.

Pale and tearless. Triumphant. Sated with the view. Dreading only the inevitable moment of return.

Little girls returning.

1962