A Small Heart by Zbigniew Herbert

A Small Heart

the bullet I fired

during the great war

went around the globe

and hit me in the back

at the least suitable moment

when I was already sure

I had forgotten it all—

his transgressions and mine

after all I like anyone else

wanted to erase the memory

of countenances of hatred

history consoled me

—I was battling violence

but the Book told me

—I was battling Cain

so many patient years

so many years in vain

I washed soot blood

hurt in mercy’s stream

so that noble beauty

the glory of existence

perhaps even the good

might have a home in me

after all I like anyone else

had a longing to return

to the bay of childhood

the country of innocence

the bullet I fired

from a low-caliber gun

despite laws of gravity

went around the globe

and hit me in the back

as if it wished to tell me

—nobody gets anything

for free

so now I sit in solitude

on a sawed-off tree trunk

in the exact center point

of the forgotten battle

gray spider I spin

bitter meditations

on memory too large

and a heart too small

(Translated by Alissa Valles)