Journal 140 - Nothing twice

Dear Christina,

It’s my last journal. A journal is a great idea. I love journals. I know that my journals weren’t typical, but they were a very good exercises for me. I regret that our class is over. I say you Good Bye. Unfortunately, each course is given only once.
Thank you very much for everything. You are a great teacher. I will remember you as one of the best teachers in my life. I wish you the smart students.
I am convinced that more will say you Szymborski’s poem NOTHING TWICE.

Best regards,
Stefan

NOTHING TWICE

Wislawa Symborska, the Polish poet, the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1996
Translation: Stanislaw Baranczak

Nothing can ever happen twice.
In consequence, the sorry fact is
that we arrive here improvised
and leave without the chance to practice.

Even if there is no one dumber,
If you’re the planet’s biggest dunce,
You can’t repeat the class in summer:
this course is only offered once.

No day copies yesterday,
No two nights will teach what bliss is
in precisely the same way,
with exactly the same kisses.

One day, perhaps, some idle tongue
mentions your name by accident:
I feel as if a rose were flung
into the room, all hue and scent.

The next day, though you’re here with me,
I can’t help looking at the clock:
A rose? A rose? What could that be?
Is it a flower or a rock?

Why do we treat the fleeting day
with so much needless fear and sorrow?
It’s in its nature not to stay:
Today is always gone tomorrow.

With smiles and kisses, we prefer
to seek accord beneath our star,
although we’re different (we concur)
just as two drops of water are.