I often start my day reading the daily poem from Paris Review. Some days, the experience is like opening a fortune cookie after a Chinese takeout dinner and feeling like the message could only be meant for me. Maybe there was a divine purpose to craving hot and sour soup on that cold winter day. So it was reading this poem.
It is one of those where being able to create intent that makes sense to the reader is deeply fulfilling. I found myself interpreting these few lines a different way upon each reading, drawing upon a myriad of life experiences. While they all felt approximately right, not one was the perfect fit. That is the secret the lines hold in them and make them so magical.
Love by Radmila Lazić
I sharpened knives
All night.
To welcome you
In the brilliance of their blades,
And among them,
My love sparkles
For your eyes only.
—Translated from the Serbian by Charles Simic
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