Come Closer and Listen by Charles Simić

Come Closer and Listen

 

I was born—don’t know the hour—

Slapped on the ass

And handed over crying

To someone many years dead

In a country no longer on the map,

 

Where like a leaf on a tree,

The fair weather gone,

I twirled around and fell to the ground

With barely a sound

For the wind to carry me away

 

Blessed or cursed—who is to say?

I no longer fret about it,

Since I’ve heard people talk

Of a blind lady called Justice

Eager to hear everyone’s troubles,

But don’t know where to find her

 

And ask her the reason

The world treats me some days well,

Some days ill. Still, I’d never

Be the first to blame her,

Blind as she is, poor thing,

She does the best she can.