My cry could only waken him. And what a poor gift: I, confined to my own form, when I used to be a birch, a lizard shedding times and satin skins in many shimmering hues. (Wisława Szymborska)

My cry could only waken him. And what a poor gift: I, confined to my own form, when I used to be a birch, a lizard shedding times and satin skins in many shimmering hues.

Wisława Szymborska

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birch cry form gift lizard poor satin shedding shimmering times

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